Low Country Magic
by Sw33tCh3rryP13
Summary: After forming a tenuous "friendship," Draco abandons Hermione without a word. When fate brings them back together, will pride part them again? Sorry, I seriously suck at summaries.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any part or parcel of the Harry Potter franchise (thought I exploit them shamelessly). The characters and all content true to the original stories, including but in no way limited to direct bits of dialogue, are the sole property of Joanne K. Rowling. The original plot of this story _does _belong to me. However, I have received no financial gain from the writing of this story, but do it solely for my own amusement and (I hope) yours.

Author's Note: This is not my first work of fanfiction, but it _is_ my first based upon the Harry Potter series. It takes place nearly ten years after the end of the war. This story is somewhat epilogue noncompliant, though aren't all stories in which Hermione ends up with Draco and not Ron already noncompliant by their very nature? Also, it may be slightly timeline noncompliant.

As I post the first chapter, I already have five written. Kiddos, this is rated M for a reason. I mean _capital_ M in bold print. Seriously, it starts out fairly tame, but if this website was a television and the stories were channels, you'd have to pay for this stuff with your dad's credit card at 3 AM. You have been warned. Oh, and I love my italics to indicate onomatopoeias, emphases and/or flashbacks and my ellipses to mark hesitations. If this bothers you, tough cookies.

07/08/12: Hey my dear readers, if you have the time and are so inclined, could you please give some love to my Drinny, "Yours, in Green Silk?" I took down and postponed my first Drinny that was getting NO love, but I am madly, passionately infatuated with the plot for this one and I reeeeeally want it to be well-liked. Please? TIA! :)

xoxoMoxox

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Hermione stood suddenly from her chair and resumed pacing as she had been mere moments before, unable to sit for more than a few seconds. She pulled the beige wool cardigan she wore more tightly about herself and wrapped her own arms around her middle. She was alone, with no one to comfort her. Mum was still in Australia, and since Hermione's dad had passed of a heart-attack the year before she could never manage more than an uninterested, "that's nice, dear" whenever Hermione had tried to discuss her non-muggle life during their weekly telephone calls. They barely even tried anymore. Harry and Ron were busy with their auror duties, though she knew without a doubt that they would be here with her for _this _particular crisis had they not been _involved_ in it. And the one person she longed to see most…well, he –

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Hermione gripped her head in her hands. When did her analog clock become so unnaturally _loud_? Unbidden, a memory of Dumbledore fought its way to the surface. What was it he had said? _"A curious thing, time…"_

It _was_ curious. Not only when meddled with, but even just as it was now. When you wanted it to go slowly, it seemed to fly. And when you wanted it to rush by, well, it crawled slower than thick, golden syrup poured into a treacle tart batter.

Hermione lowered herself into the desk chair again, staring with glazed eyes at her desk. There were piles of work there, things she needed to complete this week for her ministry job with the office of Muggle Affairs. But she wouldn't touch a page. Not until she had touched him first, had put her hands on him, had seen with her own eyes that he was all right…or not.

The roaring of a floo arrival startled Hermione from her gloom. Ginny was standing before her, hands on hips and looking as unsure as Hermione had ever seen her.

"I wish I knew what to say. I'm not sure I'll be of much comfort; you know I still think you're barking. But I was going crazy shut up with the kids."

Hermione smiled without humor. "How are they? They aren't worried for Harry, are they? Harry and Ron will be fine." They would. It helped her to say it, especially since her main concern was, for once, not with her two best friends.

"Oh no, they know. Well, James and Al know." Ginny smiled. "And, of course, Lily doesn't understand anything beyond, 'goo goo, gah gah' at this point," she added, referring to she and Harry's youngest daughter.

"Your parents are with them?"

"Yeah, I asked mum to come to the house, but she asked me to drop the kids by the Burrow instead. Luna is there and rather beside herself, and mum didn't want to leave her."

Hermione felt instant sympathy for her friend. "Ron's been on dangerous missions before. He's more competent than Harry gives him credit for sometimes. He'll be all right." She and Ron had broken up after only one year together, due to differences that simply couldn't be breached. While they'd been comfortable together, and pleasant, neither could shake the longing for something _more_…a fiery passion, a _romance_ that could never exist between two people who had known each other so well for so long before the dating even began. Though things hadn't worked out between them, she was elated that he had found that connection with sweet Luna. And Hermione believed she had found it, too. If only…

"Yes, but trust me when I say that it's worse with pregnancy hormones thrown into the mix. She's at the waddling point, and I know she just feels so miserable that everything is proportionally more horrible. It's really strange to see her anything but placid." Ginny perched herself on the edge of Hermione's desk. "She sends her love, by the way. She would have come if mum and I would have let her."

"Well it's a good thing you stopped her. Flooing in her state is ludicrous," Hermione snapped. Taking a deep breath, she added in a much gentler tone, "Please tell her not to worry for me. And give her a hug from me."

Ginny reached out and touched Hermione's hand. "Would you like to talk? I know I wasn't very understanding when you confided in me." Ginny looked embarrassed, her gaze aimed anywhere but at Hermione. "You're right, I know it. He isn't the person we all thought him to be. He never was. And any remaining personal prejudices I hold…well, they should be forgotten by now."

Hermione sighed. "I'm not sure I wish to talk about it. I'm not upset with you; I could never stay upset with you. It just feels disloyal. I haven't even told _him_ yet. I just can't…I don't…" Hermione sighed again, unable to complete a coherent sentence that was too close to the painful thought that plagued her mind. _He doesn't feel the same way_. _I already know he doesn't._ Instead, she looked upon her friend with an aching sadness in her eyes and asked, "What if I never get to tell him?"

"Oh darling…" Ginny stood and pulled Hermione to her feet, gathering her in her arms. "You will. You will get to tell him. Harry and Ron and the rest of the aurors will find him and bring him back hale, you'll see."

Hermione silently prayed that she was right. It had been a dangerous mission from the start, trying to protect the family of a prominent muggle-born wizard from a small group of zealous wizarding extremists who had been wreaking havoc in their world for several months. Yet, everything had seemed to be going smoothly. Then, yesterday, word had reached the rest of the ministry from the office of Magical Law Enforcement. One of the assigned aurors had relocated the entire family to a safe house after a reckless and brazen attack, while the other auror, who lingered to prevent the now-labeled terrorists from following, had disappeared. The missing auror was Draco Malfoy. Her Draco.

Draco was missing, and she, Hermione Granger, was in love with him.

xoxoMoxox

After Ginny left, there was no reason for Hermione to stay in her office. Merlin knew she couldn't concentrate a jot. She'd never get anything worthwhile done, and if she did try to work it would all be rubbish she would have to redo later. Snatching her briefcase off the floor next to her desk, she filled it with a few files to at least present an air of productivity. She was fooling herself, she knew, but in her mind she very logically argued that she was simply going to work from home, where she would be more comfortable.

The moment she stumbled from the floo in the parlour of her flat, however, she dropped her briefcase to the floor and allowed herself to collapse upon the sofa. She sobbed her heart out, happily away from anyone and anything that would reprehend her for it. She knew that her choice must seem imprudent to anyone on the outside looking in. But she had hardly embraced her feelings recklessly or without regard for the trouble that they would cause all around, especially to herself. Merlin, she had denied, ignored and resisted them for ages!

She and Draco had lost touch after the end of the war. When it came out that his family had secretly turned sides and were working with Severus for months before the final battle, and it was made clear how first Draco, then his mother, had kept Harry Potter safe, their social obligations had tripled. Draco had, for a time, traveled around the wizarding world hosting seminars to help those misguided wizards who still held grudges against muggles and muggle-borns. He aimed to help them understand that tragedies such as the Salem Witch Trials were in the distant past, that all people could learn from the past and that there was nothing to fear from those who were different. Hermione had always read the articles about his appearances with interest, and she'd been touched by how far he had come. Though, in many ways, he was still the same. He loved the fame, she could tell.

Five years ago, his parents, tired of the spotlight, had retired to Italy to live near friends, Blaise Zabini's mother and her current husband. The Zabinis, as it turned out, had also been part of the inside group – known simply as the Coalition – working with Severus. Hermione imagined they were something like the Valkyries she'd read about in a muggle WWII history book. Draco had declined to follow his parents, returning to London after five years of interviews, appearances, and even having written a best-selling book. For the first three years, he'd bounced around different ministry departments. Merlin knew, he had a job anywhere he wished one, but as he'd later told Hermione, he'd had trouble finding something he was passionate about. Finally, he'd ended up in Muggle Affairs, where they'd worked side-by-side for a year.

It was during those months that their friendship had begun to grow. At first, they'd fallen into old habits. After all, even with the question of blood purity removed, they'd never exactly gotten along. He believed she was bossy and too opinionated for her own good. She felt he was a bullying snob. He'd called her "Granger" in that acidic tone, and she'd continued to liken him to a ferret on every possible occasion. But slowly…so slowly that neither had noticed…things changed.

_It began about three months after Draco started working with her, the first day of their partnership that she'd been so busy she'd worked through lunch. Draco, having gone out for the meal with his rather attractive secretary – _again_, not that Hermione noticed, of course – had walked into their shared office whistling a happy tune, and then unceremoniously dropped a white paper bag on Hermione's desk._

_ "What's this?" She eyed the bag as if it might contain some sort of explosive or a vial of deadly poison._

_ "You skipped lunch, Granger. You're no good to me if you're starving, and Merlin knows I'm tired of doing all the work around here." Draco smirked as he plopped into his chair and opened his active file. _

_ Hermione, too shocked to rise to the bait, opened the bag to find her very favorite sandwich and salad combination from the café down the street._

_ "I believe the appropriate response is 'thank you,' Granger." _

_ "Thank you," Hermione had replied distractedly, noticing that his use of her surname held none of its customary bite._

Hermione lifted her face from the sofa and swiped at her eyes. Turning, she stretched out to lay on the piece of furniture. She toed off her low-heeled pumps, propping her stocking-clad feet on the arm of the couch, her head cushioned on the opposite end. Staring at her feet reminded her of another time, when they'd been working together for about six months, and she smiled.

_"Granger, do you have a life?"_

_ Hermione paused in the act of stretching her shoulders and looked up at him from behind her desk. He still called her Granger, but it was no longer an insult. It was…simply her name. Still, she was unsure where his question would lead. She frowned. "Of course I have a life! Why would you ask that?" _

_"Well," Draco threw down his quill and collapsed back in his chair, "this is the third night this week I've stayed late to finish these relocation notices. And yet, you've stayed even later than I on all three occasions. I'm starting to think you stay late every single night. What's the matter," he smirked, "broken-hearted over the Weasel?"_

_ She _had_ just received Ron and Luna's wedding invitation, but surprisingly, she hadn't been devastated at all. Rather, she'd been…relieved. She was free of any residual guilt. Yet, being the last single member of the Golden Trio reminded her of all that she was missing. She didn't miss Ron, per se, she missed…someone. She missed someone to go home to and someone to warm her bed at night and someone to sit across from her at the breakfast table; someone to love._

_ "Not at all, actually," she'd replied, stunned at how readily she confided in him. "I just…have a great deal of work. I have holiday coming in a couple of weeks. I'll be in Australia for nine days and I don't want to come home to a department that has collapsed in my absence. Merlin knows _you_ will be helpless without me," she couldn't resist adding cheekily. _

_ "Ha!" Draco barked in disbelief. "As if I couldn't run this department twice as well without your interference! Although…" he looked at her, studying her, really, and tipped his head, as if considering. "I think that I will miss you, Granger. You're surprisingly good company, when you aren't crabby because you've been in front of a desk all day."_

_ Hermione felt herself smile in response to his admission. "You aren't bad company either, Malfoy. When you aren't being an obnoxious prat." Grimacing, she pushed her chair back. "Truly, the desk isn't the problem. It's these medieval torture devices!" Groaning, she reached down and slipped off her pointed-toe black suede pumps, wiggling her toes in relief. _

_ Draco leaned around his own desk to see what she was about. "Merlin's balls, Granger! Why would you wear such stupid shoes? Those heels must be four inches high!"_

Because you took Polly to lunch again three times this week, and she's four inches taller than I am. Not that I noticed or anything, Hermione thought, but she ignored that part of his question. _"Five, actually. I carried paperwork all over the building today. My feet feel like they've been squeezed in a vice."_

_ Tut-tutting, Draco rolled his high-backed desk chair around to her side of the workstation they'd formed by pushing their two desks together, facing each other. "Girls and their silly ass fashions," he muttered, stopping his chair quite near her. "Here we are, Granger, up you go." He patted his lap and held out his hands._

_ Hermione gaped at him. He could not be serious. _

_ "What's the matter, Granger? Don't trust me?" Draco affected a rather convincing hurt expression, one that might have fooled someone who didn't know him as well. She remained still. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, he rolled his eyes. "For Merlin's sake, Granger, I'm not going to hurt you."_

_ Cautiously, Hermione lifted her feet onto his lap. His long, elegant fingers went quickly to her insteps, finding all of the most aching places and massaging them into bliss. She barely managed to refrain from moaning. Laying her head back against her cushioned chair, she closed her eyes with a contended sigh. His hands were warm on her feet, and surprisingly strong for appearing so regal. His thumbs worked the ball of one foot, and she found herself drifting off into a dream. In her mind, he slowly slid his fingers from her feet and up the sides of her legs, gliding them beneath her skirt until he found…_

_ "You have rather nice feet, Granger." His comment startled her out of her fantasy, and she felt her face redden with embarrassment. What on earth had she been thinking? This was _Malfoy_!_

_ Smirking up at her, he held one of her feet by the ankle while his free hand went to her toes. "How does that muggle rhyme go again? Oh yes, this little piggy went to market…" He gently wiggled her big toe with its crimson-painted toenail._

_ "Draco Malfoy, don't you dare!" She tried to sound as intimidating as possible, but it was difficult with her stocking-clad feet mere inches from his crotch._

_ "This little piggy stayed home…how sad." Wiggle._

_ "Malfoy!"_

_ "This little piggy had roast beef…yum yum!" Wiggle._

_ "Stop it this instant!" She tried to pull her foot away, but he held her fast with seemingly little effort._

_ "This little piggy had none…poor piggy." Wiggle._

_ "Malfoy, I am not kidding. Unhand my foot this instant or I will put a bat bogey hex on you!" Hermione's stern voice was edged with desperation, for in truth, she was _extremely _ticklish._

_ "And this little piggy went wee wee all the way home!" Wiggle. Then, without warning, his fingers were tickling the tender underside of her foot._

_ "Nooo!" Hermione squealed with laughter, thrashing violently about in her chair. "Malfoy stop! STOP! Oh Merlin, stop…please!" Suddenly, he did. She opened her eyes and wiped away the tears of mirth to see him staring at the vicinity of her lap with no humor at all in his expression. Actually, he looked a little…intense._

_ Hermione looked down. "Oh, gods!" Her grey twill, knee-length, A-line skirt had rucked up during her squirming, revealing the delicately embroidered tops of her sheer black stockings, her red satin garter belt and the front of her lacy black knickers. Beet red, she hastily shoved the skirt back into place. "Well…um…I should finish this file."_

_ "Right…right." Draco jerked himself and his chair back to his side of the work station. He went through the motions for a few minutes, and then said abruptly, "You know, I think I'll just take some of this work home with me." Moments later, he'd flooed home with his briefcase full of files. _

Hermione loved the memory, even if it was embarrassing. Seeing a playful side of Draco…yes, that was possibly the first night she'd truly started losing her heart to him. And, if she were being honest, her mind had edited that memory many times late at night when she was lying alone in her bed, imagining what might have happened had they not jumped away from each other. More than once she had brought herself to earth-shattering completion, imagining his long fingers unfastening her garters and slipping beneath her knickers to pleasure her core the way he had her feet.

Nothing of that sort had ever happened, though. Neither of them had ever mentioned that night again, but something…some undefinable thing…had hung heavy in the air between them. They started having lunch together, much to the clear annoyance of Polly the secretary. Hermione smirked herself at the memory of Polly's sour expression the first several times she'd been thrown over. They'd had a comfortable friendship. And, Hermione admitted to herself, she just _might_ have deluded herself into thinking it could _possibly _become more…then…the Christmas party.

Hermione groaned aloud and threw her arms up over her head. That stupid kiss at the department Christmas party had changed everything.

_"Happy Christmas, Granger!" Draco strolled into the office looking irresist—festive, she corrected her brain – in gray slacks and a dark green button-front shirt opened at the collar. His hair, unencumbered by product, fell silkily to his collar, making her fingers itch to touch. His cheeks, slightly rough with a golden stubble that told her he'd not bothered to shave, were flushed with a hint of pink from the cold. What caught her attention, however, was the red foam Rudolph nose attached to his own. She burst out laughing. _

_ "Happy Christmas, Malfoy. In the spirit, I see!" _

_ He grinned and removed the nose. "Flying reindeer! Bah! Whoever heard of something so silly? Why, a Nimbus 2020 would put one of those stupid beasts to shame!" His eyes raked over her, taking in her fussy French twist and the red V-necked wrap dress she'd carefully chosen that morning. Not with him in mind, though, she assured herself. "What are you doing working? We're having a _party_ today, Granger."_

_ Hermione sighed and looked down at her desk. "Oh, I know, but…there's so much to do. I'm going to be gone for six whole days and I haven't even looked at these educational files yet and…" she squealed in surprise to find Draco suddenly beside her. His time during the war had certainly taught him to move quietly, she mused._

_ "Nope. No educational files today." Draco closed the open one on her desk, straightened the pile just as she liked it, and grabbed her by the hand. "Party today." Tugging her out of her chair, he pulled her along behind him to the main common area. She went with only a little resistance, laughing._

_ "Look who I found, everyone!" Draco announced their presence and several people called out to Hermione, wishing her a happy Christmas. She waved back at them and declined a mug of eggnog with a smile. Suddenly, Jenn, one of the office temps, began giggling._

_ "Uh oh, you two! Look where you're standing!" _

_ Hermione was momentarily confused, looking about her. Draco, however, had instantly understood Jenn's meaning and looked up. He and Hermione were directly beneath a sprig of mistletoe. He tapped Hermione's shoulder to get her attention, then pointed at the glittering, enchanted object hanging in midair. Hermione bit her lower lip._

_ "Come on, you two," Jenn urged, "you know it's tradition!" Several others began to join in the heckling._

_ Hermione looked up at Draco, and he down at her. After six months of letting this tension build, of dancing around each other, it had come to a head. Hermione's gaze searched Draco's for any sign of repulsion. There was none; only heat, a heat like she'd never seen before, turning his normally sparkling, dove gray eyes into swirling pools of liquid mercury. They were drawing her in…_

Well, she knew now that she'd imagined the want in his eyes. But it had seemed so real to her poor, grasping mind, back then.

_She felt his hands lightly cupping the sides of her neck, his thumbs pressing against her jawline to tilt her head back in the perfect angle. His lips were an inch from hers. "Okay?" he whispered._

_ She couldn't speak. Her heart was thrumming with anticipation. Wildly, she wondered if he could feel the rapid beat of her pulse beneath his hands. She gave a nearly imperceptible nod. Slowly, so slowly, he lowered his lips to hers._

_ Hermione had spent more minutes than she would ever confess to anyone else daydreaming about what it would feel like to kiss him. She knew exactly what his mouth looked like from stealing glances at him across their desks when he wasn't looking. The firm, defining lines were softened by the fullness of his lips. Conversely, the near-pillowy volume of them would have been almost feminine without the crisp outline that was so downright sexy. No! Not sexy, she thought desperately. This was Malfoy! Malfoy wasn't sexy! He was…he was…oh, sweet Merlin._

_ His lips had found hers. He lightly brushed them back and forth once…twice…before settling in. His top lip fit so perfectly just above hers, while his bottom lip nestled snuggly along the seam that divided her own. Her lashes fluttered closed, and her hands came to rest lightly on his wrists. He leaned in, using just the right amount of pressure. Hermione refrained from making the same noise that often escaped her when she ate something particularly appetizing, but she had the same feeling. His kiss was absolutely yummy. Dizzy with expectancy, she waited for him to deepen the kiss._

_ Suddenly, it was over. Draco pulled away slowly, and Hermione's eyes popped open as she swayed a little on her feet. _

_ "Now that was a kiss," someone shouted. "Looks like she almost fainted dead away!"_

_ Disappointment and embarrassment dropped Hermione's stomach to her feet. Plastering on a fake smile, she quickly fisted her hands behind her back in case some silly urge to throw herself at him should overtake her. "Um…well. Happy Christmas, Malfoy. Again."_

_ Draco smirked, shoving his own hands into his trouser pockets. "Yeah, and to you."_

_ She turned quickly away from him, snatching up a cup of spiked (she desperately hoped) eggnog and initiating a work-related conversation with a woman she recognized from the group of cubicle workers. She studiously avoided looking around to find Draco, telling herself she didn't care what he was doing. Clearly he hadn't been as affected as she had by that kiss. Stupid kiss. Not even a very good kiss, anyhow, she lied to herself. As soon as her mug was drained, she politely excused herself and slipped back to her office. Gathering her things together, she left a memo to let anyone who needed her know to contact her at home, and flooed there straight away. _

_ She'd returned to the office on Tuesday, January 2__nd__ to find Draco's desk completely bare. All of his personal items – his nameplate, the picture of his parents, his framed Dumbledore chocolate frog card, the gold quill he'd received from his father at graduation, the Wizarding Press award for his book – were gone. She stared dumbly at the bare surface._

_ "Hope you had a nice Christmas, Hermione!" Kingsley stuck his head into the office from the hallway. "Uh, wanted to let you know personally…Draco turned in his resignation. He applied for auror training during the break and was selected. We haven't hired anyone to replace him yet, obviously, so I apologize if the workload is a bit heavy for a while." Hermione turned to look at him, but couldn't respond. She was so stunned, so hurt that she had no clue what to say. "Erm, right, then." Kingsley cleared his throat. "Well, welcome back." He continued down the corridor. _

_ Slowly, Hermione walked to her chair. Very carefully, she placed her briefcase next to her desk. Gingerly, she lowered herself into her seat. He was gone. He'd left her without a word. She gasped softly. It was the kiss! He could tell from that kiss…that stupid kiss…how she felt. He must have realized how she wanted him. Oh, she'd lied to herself for months. They were just friends, she'd told herself. He was _Malfoy_, he would always be disgusting, she'd mentally argued. But her body had ignored all of her rational logic. She had realized, missing him terribly over Christmas break, that she was attached to him. She had wanted him desperately. No, she _wanted _him desperately. Still. And even already, with the preview of the last week, she knew how she was going to yearn for him. He was gone, and it was her stupid fault. Something in her kiss had given her away. Knowing that she – dowdy, bushy-headed, bossy Hermione Granger – wanted him had made him run._

_ Hermione deliberately flicked one finger toward the door to her office, closing and locking it wandlessly. Then she buried her face in her arms atop her desk and cried for hours._

A tear slid down Hermione's cheek. Even then, she hadn't realized how far beyond physical wanting her feelings went. She loved him. She had loved him then, and she loved him now. It was October now, more than ten months since he'd joined the aurors and more than four months since he'd graduated training at the top of his class and been assigned under Harry. Muggle Affairs had eventually replaced him with a fat, balding, middle-aged curmudgeon who had immediately demanded his own office and removed himself and the spare desk to it. Hermione was in that big office alone, lonely for Draco every day.

They saw each other in passing, when he had ministry business and they met coming down the hallway or when they showed up at the same events. They were cordial to each other. Occasionally she heard about him from Harry or Ron, with whom he sometimes spent social time in addition to their interactions at work. As far as she had gathered, he wasn't seeing anyone. At least that helped ease the ache in her heart. But even his absence hadn't made her love him less. If anything, it had just gotten worse. And she hadn't told him. No matter how he laughed at her and ridiculed her, no matter how stupid she felt, she should have told him. What if she now never had the chance?

With a frustrated grunt, she rolled from the couch to a standing position. Moving to the stairs, she climbed to her bedroom and changed into a pair of old ratty sweatpants and a faded Holyhead Harpies tee-shirt Ginny had given her several years ago, before she'd retired. She seated herself at her vanity and began pulling out the pins that kept her voluminous hair in a neat chignon at her nape.

Around the middle of July the attacks on muggle-borns had begun. At first, panic that the death eaters had returned was rampant. According to Harry, Lucius and Narcissa had even owled Draco to demand that he come to Italy. They were afraid that their true alliances would be forgotten in the frenzy to see justice done in the name of the three young wizards found killed. Draco had refused, and Harry had told her proudly that the muggle-born protection initiative had been Draco's own idea. Through cooperation with the ministry's Divination Department and a complicated system, they were able to identify which muggle-born wizards were most likely to be attacked and relocate them to the wizarding underground or auror-guarded safe houses. Hermione was not at risk, being such a public figure. Harry and the other aurors knew she would refuse to be protected, anyhow. Through the efforts of Draco's group, it had been discovered that the perpetrators were simply a small group of pureblood zealots, believed to be no more than fifteen in number. And, not a single additional wizard had yet been killed. Hermione couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in the man she loved as she brushed through the tangles in her curls, even if he didn't belong to her.

Several days ago she'd gone to dinner with Harry and Ginny and Ron and Luna. She learned that a young fourteen-year-old wizard named Greta Albauer was the next intended victim, and that Draco and his partner Blaise had been dispatched to escort the family from their home in Berlin to a safe house in the Low Country of muggle South Carolina. Since the terrorists were apparently able to trace all magic used, Draco and Blaise had traveled to Berlin without it, and it had been confirmed that they'd arrived at the Albauers'. But something had gone wrong. Hermione whimpered softly as she pulled her hair into a messy bun atop her head.

The aurors' best guess, based upon what little information they'd had from Blaise, was that the terrorists were either waiting for the men when they arrived or arrived themselves shortly after. There'd been a fight, and Blaise admitted that Draco had voluntarily taken the brunt of it while Blaise himself got the family together and disapparated them. Fearing the terrorists knew of their plans, Blaise had taken the Albauers to a different safe house in Christchurch.

Upon receiving a coded owl message from Zabini, the aurors had rushed to Berlin. There had been no sign of Draco anywhere in the house or on the grounds, though they'd found two dead terrorists, both suspects at the top of the ministry's list. There wasn't a significant amount of blood, Harry had assured her, though he reluctantly confessed that Blaise had witnessed Draco sustain at least one significant injury.

Hermione padded downstairs to the kitchen, tears sliding silently down her face. What if Draco was lying somewhere, alone, _dying_? Dying _alone_? And all the while, she was stuck here, with no clue how to find him, when she could save him. Immediately after the war, she'd gone through healer training. Though she'd finally decided the work was not for her after the devastation of losing three of her favorite patients in one day, she knew she was skilled. She could save Draco, but she might not get the chance. Shaking the gloomy thoughts from her head, she set a kettle on the stove to boil.

Ginny had certainly been shocked yesterday, Hermione thought. The memory almost made her smile.

_Her friend knew that Hermione had worked directly with Draco, and had flooed to her_ _flat to check on her. Ginny had explained that she expected Hermione might be a bit upset. What_ _she had not expected was to find her collapsed on her parlour floor, weeping inconsolably. _

_ "Heavens, Hermione!" Ginny had exclaimed. "What, all of this over an evil git you only worked with for a year?"_

_"Oh Ginny…Ginny I_ love_ him!" She'd had to tell someone. It was eating her up inside like acid, the guilt of not telling him devouring her soul like a basilisk._

_ Ginny's face had gone completely blank. "You can't."_

"_I_ do! _Gin, I love him so desperately. I scared him away, I think he guessed, but I never_ told _him. Why didn't I_ tell _him? I know he doesn't want to hear it, but he can't die before I tell him!" she wailed, looking up at her friend, beseeching her for answers._

_"Hermione! Have you LOST YOUR BLOODY MIND_? _This is_ Malfoy _we're talking about!" She_ _plopped onto the carpet next to Hermione. "It's a sad situation, I grant you. But you cannot love that slimy ferret! Why, have you even seen him more than a handful of times since he joined the aurors?"_

_ Logically, Hermione could understand Ginny's reaction. After all, she and Draco were probably the two most mismatched people in history. And it wasn't as if anything were going to come of her feelings. No, he would have to return them for something to happen, and he clearly didn't. Emotionally, however, she was hurt by her friend's lack of sympathy for her plight and she was feeling very defensive after having just told someone for the first time that she loved Draco Malfoy. For once, Hermione acted upon her emotional response. _

_ Swallowing the rest of her sobs, she stood primly and dusted herself off. She wiped the tears from her eyes and lifted her chin. Pointing to the floo, she said, "I would like you to go now."_

_ Surprise was written on Ginny's face. "Hermione, I only…"_

_ "Go, now. Please."_

And Ginny had gone. Hermione picked up her prepared mug of tea and carried it to the parlour, curling up on the couch once again. Sipping slowly, she forced herself to think calming thoughts. She was glad that Ginny had come to her today at work, to clear the air. And she knew that her friend was trying her best to understand. That was enough for now. She knew, too, that Ginny would keep it to herself. That was imperative. After all, even if Hermione did manage to find him and tell him, she already knew what his answer would be. The man had transferred _jobs _to avoid her affections, for Merlin's sake. Telling Ginny of her inevitable heartbreak would be gut-wrenching enough. She was glad there would be no one else to witness her humiliation.

What she needed, her logical Hermione side decided, finally drowning out annoying emotional Hermione, was a plan. Yes, she needed a plan to find Draco and rescue him. Feeling refreshed with a purpose at hand, Hermione set her mug on the table next to the couch and rose. She would need parchment to make lists and diagrams, and a quill, and a map…she could get a map of Berlin at – she froze in her tracks. What had Blaise said? Draco had stayed behind…Blaise had only decided at the last moment to disapparate to Christchurch. Gasping, she ran up the stairs to find her charmed galleon.

xoxoMoxox

"Harry! Harry, can you hear me?" Hermione knew that Harry still carried his galleon everywhere.

"Hermione? What's the matter?

"Harry…oh, I know this is stupid, I'm sure you've looked. But…South Carolina? If Blaise only decided just before disapparating to take the Albauers to New Zealand, could Malfoy still have gone to South Carolina, thinking they were there?"

"We thought so. But you're right, we did look. We've searched the entire house and all of the land around it. It's an abandoned old plantation, so there was a lot of ground to cover, but I'm sure we looked everywhere. Our group is still here now, actually, so surely we would have found something."

"Oh." Hermione felt deflated. Still, her rational brain chided her, she knew it was a longshot to think that the aurors wouldn't have thought of that. Suddenly, another thought struck her. "Harry, is there somewhere else? I mean…is it possible that Dr—Malfoy either apparated somewhere _near_ the safe house or was spooked once he arrived at the safe house and had to hide? Could there have been a terrorist guarding it before you guys got there? Maybe Malfoy stayed close, thinking Zabini would still show up…just not anywhere on the plantation?"

"I doubt that, Hermione," Harry said carefully. "After all, he can only apparate to places he knows and…" Harry stopped abruptly. "Hermione…Hermione you're a genius! I think I know where he is, I'm going to grab the guys and head over there."

"Where? Harry? HARRY!" Hermione screamed into her galleon, but it was no use. Harry was gone, off to find Draco. She squeezed the coin in her hand and stared at the wall. Would he find him? What sort of condition would he find him _in_? She wanted to be there. She almost thought, that should Draco be…well, if they found him not alive, she'd rather see it for herself than have someone tell her. None of the aurors would know her feelings. They wouldn't know to tell her that news in the way a woman needs to be told when the man that she loves is…dead.

Suddenly, a strange glow engulfed the room and Hermione realized that Harry's stag patronus was forming before her.

"Hermione, we found him. He needs a healer – the best. He needs you. Grab as much as you can, I will be there soon to apparate you. We are moving him to the plantation house physically but we're going to have to chance the magic to get you here. He doesn't…he won't hold out much longer, Hermione." The patronus faded, and Hermione covered her mouth with her hand to hold in a sob that was half joyous relief and half anguish. Draco was alive…but could she keep him that way?

Hurriedly, she grabbed her favorite bag with the undetectable expansion charm and ran to her potions and poultices cabinet. Opening the door, she simply scooped everything in. Who knew what she might need? Next, she opened the small closet where she dried herbs and threw everything hanging there into the purse. Finally, once she was sure she had everything that would benefit Draco, she allowed herself to pack a few items of clothing and necessities like her toothbrush and the special shampoo that somewhat tamed her hair.

The sound of apparation behind her grabbed her attention, and she turned to see Harry in her bedroom.

"Ready? The less time we linger, the harder it will be for them to trace us." Wordlessly, she grabbed onto Harry's side and he wrapped his arm around her. With a pop, they disapparated.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any part or parcel of the Harry Potter franchise (thought I exploit them shamelessly). The characters and all content true to the original stories, including but in no way limited to direct bits of dialogue, are the sole property of Joanne K. Rowling. The original plot of this story _does _belong to me. However, I have received no financial gain from the writing of this story, but do it solely for my own amusement and (I hope) yours.

Author's Note: I am so thrilled that people like this first story that I decided to post the second chapter. Then, when I realized that still not having any direct Draco/Hermione interaction (save for flashbacks) might make my dear readers give up and abandon it, I decided to also upload chapter 3. However, I will probably not generally post updates so quickly (normal would be a 7-10 day timeline.) I hope you enjoy!

Preciousblue: Thank you so much for your kind review! The fact that you were drawn that much into the story is the highest compliment. I actually lived for a long while in North Carolina, but we vacationed in South Carolina often and I love the Low Country (especially the food!) I only wish I could feature it even more prominently than the story will allow, for reasons which will become obvious. Prepared for that, I decided to pay homage with the title.

WARNING: THERE IS SOME SEXUAL LANGUAGE USED AND MILD-MODERATE SEXUAL REFERENCES IN THIS CHAPTER.

xoxoMoxox

_Pain. Oh gods, the pain. _Draco crept along the edge of the tree line, holding his side. Beneath his palm, he could feel the blood still flowing out of the deep, wide gash there. He had his wand but even if his wounds_ weren't_ so clearly beyond wand magic it would have been impossible to heal himself without practically hanging a big, neon arrow over his head blinking "here I am, come and get me" at those monsters still prowling around the main house. They must have developed the best recognizance he'd ever seen; they'd been on him and Blaise in seconds in Berlin, and two more had been waiting here for them. At least Zabini had the sense to take the family elsewhere, though Draco wished he knew _where_. Hell, he'd settle for a way to tell someone else where he was, or to apparate out, or – he hissed as a fresh surge of pain went through his side. He'd taken the brunt of a slicing spell across the left side of his ribcage, though he'd managed to deflect some of it. There was another open wound on his upper right arm, but it wasn't bleeding as steadily or as much. He knew his face, back and arms were covered in minor to moderate cuts but nothing concerned him as much as his side. He was worried that the loss of blood would cause him to pass out before he could reach his destination. Wouldn't that be just peachy? Either the two terrorists in the house would find him or Potter and his group would, which Draco would never live down. If he lived, that was.

Gathering his energy, Draco hurried through a mass of white-barked sycamore trees and dashed beneath the concealing branches of a weeping willow. The presence of the willow told him that he was not far from the pond, and the building he was looking for was on the edge of the water. Unfortunately, getting there meant that he would have to leave the safety and cover of the forest. Between the willow where he was currently hiding and the old overseer's hut it was open land. But if he could make it there, if the wards were still in place, he could apparate without being traced. He was too weak to go far, but he thought he could picture the old Gullah village he'd explored once well enough to get himself there.

Leaning against the tree trunk, Draco panted and tried to summon what strength he had left. His body was shutting down, trying to persuade his mind to give up, lie down and have a nap. He knew if he did, he'd never wake up. He had to do this, he had to survive. _Do this for her,_ he thought. _Do this because if you don't, you'll never get to tell her all of those things you were too much of a pathetic coward to tell her before._ With a last burst of energy, Draco began sprinting toward the ramshackle building 700 feet away.

He'd made it almost halfway before he heard the cry from the house. With his wand in hand, he spun, running sideways. He threw up a shield just in time, blocking the first curse. The second he ducked, sensing it would be high. He threw up another shield and kept running.

_Three-hundred feet…two-hundred and fifty…two-hundred feet…_curses were crashing into the ground all around him. Draco could see the edges of his vision going black, and he was struggling to draw in air. Still, he was managing to hold them off and he was closing the distance. _One-hundred feet…fifty…ten feet…_Draco blocked a well-aimed curse and lunged for the door of the outbuilding. Just before he turned to kick it closed behind him, he felt the sharp, searing pain in his right shoulder and the warm trickle of blood down his back. _Keep going…keep going…_Draco lifted his wand and, with only a moment's hesitation, carefully tested the wards. Yes! They were still there! This plantation had been used for part of his auror training, and some of the more rebellious trainees – he wouldn't mention names, of course – had put up wards around the neglected hut to guard against intruders and tracing. They allowed each person a place to have…special "alone" time…and also provided a way to sneak out for the night.

Bent at the waist and gasping for breath, Draco prayed to Merlin that he wasn't about to splinch himself. Blinking the fuzz from his brain, he pictured the abandoned, preserved Gullah village built along the edge of the Low Country shore about a mile away by escaped slaves at the end of the 18th century. Carefully, he conjured to his mind as many details as he could, remembering his explorations there during his free hours, the buildings and dunes and rock formations he'd wanted to show to his Granger. Then, setting his jaw and taking a deep breath, he apparated.

xoxoMoxox

_Pain_. He was so weak, he couldn't stand. Landing on the beach, he let himself fall to the sand. Rest…he would rest, just for a moment…_NO!_ Draco's eyes popped open. If he rested now, it would be the last time. He had to get home, he _had_ to. He knew there was something he needed to do, but his brain was disconnecting itself. Only simple thoughts made sense. _Stand. There, that's right. Good. Now walk. One step…two steps…good, keep going._

Draco knew at the very end of the row of huts was what he and several trainees had dubbed, "the love shack." In the best condition of any of the buildings still standing, it had a roof that didn't leak and it didn't smell of mold. He himself had transfigured a mattress from a pile of palmetto fronds and had left it on the floor of the hut. He prayed to Merlin it was still there, a place for him to hide away and finally give in to the weakness and exhaustion that were threatening to drown him.

_Keep going, keep going. _Draco looked down at the sand beneath his feet. He realized he was leaving a thick trail of red blood, but there was little he could do about it. Every few steps he tried to kick sand over the tell-tale path. The effort was excruciating, and it made the darkness rush in faster. Twenty-five feet from his destination, he gave up. If they followed him this far, they'd know he was in there, anyhow. With a sob of relief, he pushed through the door of the hut and collapsed onto the soft, musty mattress. _Sleep_…_you've done everything that you can…sleep…_

_ Hermione blinked up at him, her long golden lashes fluttering around huge, trusting eyes. Their rich dark color reminded him of the best chocolate he'd ever had, the sort that was twenty galleons for one small piece at the specialty shop in Diagon Alley he'd once taken Pansy to, trying to impress her. Ha! What an idiot he'd been, trying to get pug-faced Pansy into bed when his Granger had been there all that time._

_ The skin of Hermione's neck was like silk beneath his palms, her elegant jaw like ivory against his thumbs. He was going to kiss her. Gods, after months of aching for her, of fighting so desperately to keep his hands off of her, he was going to do the unthinkable. He leaned in, but a sudden thought stopped him. What if she didn't want his kiss? Merlin knew, she had shut him down quickly enough a few months before. He'd had the sweetest view of her naughty lingerie, and had been seconds away from grabbing her and claiming her atop her desk, had been a breath away from burying his face against the black lace that had shocked him to his core and finally tasting the luscious, feminine heat of her. But she had slapped up a wall between them faster than he could blink that night, and he'd made himself scarce, rushing home to thrust into his own fist until he came with a roar in the cold sterility of his bathroom…again. It had been the same as every night, sometimes multiple times a night, as he fantasized about looking into her lovely face, touching her downy-soft golden skin, wrapping her long, toned legs around his hips…and then took his cock in his own hand, only imagining that he was inside of her. _

_He sighed without sound. What was he thinking? Of course she didn't want his kiss…she felt obligated because of the mistletoe and the onlookers. He knew the noble thing to do would be to give her a peck on the cheek and walk away. But while he had changed significantly in some ways, he still just wasn't that damn noble. He remained an opportunist by nature. She wouldn't push him away, her manners were too refined, and he was going to cherish every second of contact. He gulped. "Okay?"_

_ The silence was deafening. He could swear he heard his own heart pounding in his ears. He almost swallowed his tongue when he saw her nod. It was barely there, the merest tip of her head…but it was there. Slowly, savoring the anticipation, he brought his lips to her voluptuous, slightly moistened ones. Gods, they fit together perfectly. He held back a groan of pleasure. Once his mouth had touched hers, he wondered what he'd been doing with all of those other women. It certainly wasn't kissing. This…this was a kiss. As chaste as it was, he could feel his insides curling into a warm ball of actual happiness and perfect contentment. He was about to part her lips for his tongue, to delve into the velvet inside of her mouth and feast on her the way he'd wanted to for so long, when he realized that she was standing as still as a statue. Her hands were on his wrists – had she been trying to pull him away? Had he been so engrossed in his own desire that he'd missed the signs of her displeasure? Shit, he'd almost tried to make out with her in front of all of their coworkers! Maybe he _was _still the low, slimy git she'd always taken him for. Quickly, he broke the kiss and backed away._

_ After their awkward parting, she'd seemed to stay as far away from him as possible. It confirmed his dread that he'd repulsed her, that she could never want anything to do with him beyond their tenuous friendship. She may have forgiven him for that night in the Manor, the night that changed _everything_ in his life, and she may have offered him her amity. But she would never offer him her heart, or her body, or any part of her future._

_ He'd spent all of the Christmas holiday miserable, missing her face and her smile and her voice, yet still wondering how he could calmly work beside her day after day now. Every time he looked at her he would want to wrap his arms around her, each time she playfully speared him with her quick wit he'd crave her, on any occasion she came close enough to tease him with her scent his mind would meander down the X-rated paths it took whenever she was near. Then, one day, she'd meet someone. And she'd tell him all about the thieving fucker while they worked and during their lunches together…then the wedding invitation would come and he'd have to hang himself because there would be no polite way to decline. With this grim future as the alternative, Draco had quickly turned in his resignation, steeling himself against any regret, and applied for auror training. The travel – being far away from Hermione and her seductive lure – was attractive to him. But now…_

Draco willed himself back to increased consciousness. Now, this stupid job was going to take him away from her forever. He was going to die here, he just knew it. Someday, someone would find his rotting corpse and think, "how pathetic, for someone to die alone and friendless like that." That's what he would have thought. Too bad he couldn't gather the energy for his trademark sneer.

Would he go to heaven? Was there such a place? He wished he could be sure. He'd tried so hard to change. He knew he was still obnoxious and arrogant and, at times, a supreme prick. But those things were part of his character. He didn't think he could change them, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't want to. He would be a completely different person if he did. He would be…Potter. Draco vaguely thought he might laugh at the idea if he'd had the ability. He didn't hate Potter, but the thought of them being anything alike was hilarious. No, he didn't hate…anyone. That was a big change, wasn't it? And not only did he not hate, anyone…he loved. Truly loved. Draco could feel himself slipping away. He knew it wouldn't be long now. Closing his eyes, he did the only thing he could.

_Okay…whoever you are…if you're up there somewhere listening to me…I've tried to do all the right things in the past ten years. You know what I felt in my heart the night I watched Granger tortured. If you really are watching me, then you know I've really changed. I even gave up the woman I love because she deserves better than some wanker like me who was too stupid and weak and cowardly to save her all those years ago. I'd do anything for her now, but it's too late. Ah, Merlin, please don't let her see me like this. Please, don't let her remember me as a bleeding, ugly corpse on a rotting mattress. Even if she thinks of me as the smirking jerk she was glad to be rid of, I'd rather her have that memory. That's all I ask. Oh, and I would like to go to heaven, if it isn't too much trouble. _

Draco felt calm in his heart, having said his piece to the powers that be. He was ready, and he knew that death was rushing toward him. He had read somewhere that pain was a good sign, it was when you couldn't feel the injury that you had to worry. He knew he was still bleeding, but his body had become numb and his teeth were chattering. He wished he had a piece of parchment and a quill. At least he could have written Granger a final note, to tell her –

"Malfoy! Malfoy, are you here? Malfoy, we'll find you…hang on. We won't leave you."

Potter. It was Potter, and Draco knew that the aurors had found him. But he didn't have the power to call out, and he was certain that they were too late, anyway. So he waited. They would find him…Potter promised. They would find him. Even if it was just to take his body back home.

It seemed like hours, but it must have been less than five minutes. Draco heard the door of the hut open and he saw light through the backs of his eyelids, now too heavy to open. "Ron! Susan! Neville! He's here!" Potter was yelling, and suddenly Draco was being lifted.

"Hold on, old man. I've got you. We're going to take you back to the house."

Fear clutched Draco's heart. They didn't know there were assassins there, he had to warn them. Even if it meant they had to leave him to rot, he wouldn't let them walk into an ambush. Still unable to open his eyes, he finally managed a rusty whisper after several tries. "N-no, Potter. Ter…terror'sts." The last word was slurred, not fitting properly in his mouth no matter how he tried.

"Shh, shh, don't talk man. The terrorists are gone. They almost got to you first, we found them at the north end of the beach when we arrived. Longbottom took one down, the other disapparated but there are better wards on the house now. He can't go back there. We knew there was some reason you weren't at the house, since you couldn't know Zabini didn't take the Albauers to South Carolina. Hermione put it together, she was bloody brilliant. As soon as we get you to the house, I'm going to go and get her. She's the best healer in wizarding Britain, you know. She would say the world, but I figure someone has to take her down a peg until you're back on your feet." Draco knew they were moving, had been for some minutes, though Potter was careful not to jostle him.

"We're going to have to walk the mile to the house. We still need to avoid allowing them chances to trace us as much as possible, especially into the house. If they can trace us in they may be able to see all of the wards and figure out how to remove them. Also, I'm pretty certain apparating would finish you off. I'm going to keep talking to you, because I want you to stay with me. Okay, Malfoy?"

There was a long moment of silence, and Potter shook Draco rather abruptly in his arms. Draco groaned. "Okay, Malfoy?"

"'Kay." Somewhere in Draco's dim mind, he realized Potter had just told him something important. Carefully, he began to sift through the words one-by-one. What was it that had caught his interest? Suddenly, he remembered. Hermione was coming. He just had to hold on long enough to see her, to tell her. Then his conscience would be clear and he could die at peace.

"You were a real friend to Hermione when she needed one, Malfoy. I don't know if she told you. It wasn't that seeing Ron move on was hard on her, really. I think it was more that burying the dream of being in love and having the little house with the picket fence and the babies hurt her a lot. But she seemed much happier once you went to work at the ministry. You were a distraction for her, and she likes you quite a lot. So thank you for that."

"N-no…p-p…fennnnce." Draco's teeth were chattering with force.

Potter chuckled. "No, you're not really the picket fence type. Don't fear, mate, I highly doubt our Hermione expected you to take over the husband and daddy role in her daydreams. She just enjoys having you as a friend. I know she's missed you since you left the ministry."

He continued to rattle on, telling Draco that he'd sent the others on ahead to secure the entire plantation, including all of the land and forest on the west side. He talked about his life, how Ginny had given birth to their first daughter in January and going on and on about all of his redheaded relatives. Finally, after what seemed a lifetime, Draco felt Potter's chest hitch with a gasp beneath his side. "Look, Malfoy, we're almost to the house. Just a few more feet…"

Draco could tell by the jostling when they'd reached the stairs. He was going to hold on, he could hold on. He was just minutes away from Hermione. There was a clamor as Neville held open the door, and Susan rushed around gathering water and anything she could find that might work as bandages and tourniquets. Ron had made up the large bed in the master bedroom and the linens were covered with the plastic shower curtain he'd ripped from the rungs in the bathroom to protect it from blood. Harry laid Draco down gently on the bed.

"Watch him carefully. Try to stop the bleeding. No magic, I'll be using a dangerous amount as it is." With that, Harry disapparated. No sooner had Draco drowsily wondered how long it would be before he returned with Hermione, but there was the sound of apparation and she was there.

"Draco!" He fought as hard as he could to open his eyes. Dear Merlin, if he was going to die he just wanted to see her one last time. Finally, he managed small slits that were just large enough to see the shadowy image of her beautiful face leaning over him.

"H..Her…mmm…"

"Shh! Don't talk, you stupid man. I'm here; I'm going to heal you." Draco felt her hand brushing his sweaty, blood-crusted hair away from his forehead. He experienced a fleeting sadness that she wouldn't remember him as the devilishly handsome man he'd been the last time they'd talked together, but would instead have a final memory of him as helpless and dirty. With the feel of her soft, strong fingertips on his forehead and her other small hand clinging to one of his, he couldn't fight anymore. He slipped into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

xoxoMoxox

Hermione leaned over the sink in the master bathroom hours later, her shoulders shuddering with sobs. She'd done all she could, and it was in someone else's hands now. Draco seemed to be comfortable, but he hadn't stirred even once as she'd applied the necessary creams and salves and stitched up the worst of the wounds using the special, naturally-shed unicorn hair sutures she'd developed. She'd used the best of both wizarding methods and muggle methods, and she could only pray it had been enough. She studied herself in the mirror through the sheen of tears. Merlin, she looked a sight, she thought fuzzily. Her sloppy bun had frizzed badly in the Southern heat of an Indian summer and her face was dirty and tear-streaked. She was still dressed in her sweats and threadbare shirt, now both splattered with blood along with her arms. Sucking in a deep breath and swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned the water on as hot as she could stand it and scrubbed away the blood that coated her up to her elbows.

"How do you think it went?" She glanced up and spotted Harry's reflection in the mirror. He was leaning into the doorframe behind her, arms crossed over his chest and one shoulder propped against the jamb. There was still a fine sheen of sweat over him, and she knew that the combination of carrying a heavily muscled and taller Draco so far and the warding of the entire plantation he'd just helped finish had taken a toll on him. She turned and rested her hips and bottom against the edge of the sink.

"Honestly? I don't know. He was so far gone already…He lost a lot of blood. A lot." she stopped before her voice broke. Calming herself, she shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "I gave him all three vials of blood restoration potion I had with me. It would have been prudent to give him another, but it would take four days to make more and if he lives through the next two he probably won't need it. Right now…it could go either way." She turned halfway around and plucked a towel from the rack next to the sink, using the few seconds it took her to dry her still-wet hands to collect herself. "I left his ankle alone, since it isn't life-threatening. I don't even think he knew it was broken, as far as he walked on it. The bone had already started fusing from necessity. He must not have felt it at all. If…" She turned forward again, twisting the towel tightly in her fists, and drew in a shuddering breath. "_Once_ he gets past the rough patch and starts getting stronger, I'll rebreak it and administer some bone mending potion. For the time being his body can't expend any more energy to heal a non-vital injury. Reasonably, it's doubtful it will even be able to heal the vital ones, as bad as they are."

Harry nodded. They stood in silence for a minute or two. Finally, he said, "We can't all stay. We still need to find the ten or eleven extremists still out there roaming around and there are still innocents we need to get into hiding. We've warded the entire plantation, both the little strip to the east and all one thousand acres that stretch out to the west. There are layers every few feet, so literally hundreds of walls. In addition, we added more wards to the house itself since we had to apparate. They'll only allow us in or out. You're as well protected as possible." He shifted to stand fully, looking hesitant. "I'm short on aurors as it is and I need as many men as I can get. One of us can stay for tonight, but after tomorrow morning you'll be on your own. I'll stay, if you want."

Of anyone in the world, Hermione would choose Harry, her best friend, to stay with her. But she knew that would be selfish. "No, no. You need to go home," she said firmly. "Ginny stopped by the office today…" Hermione's eyes went to her watch and she squinted at the dial. "Make that yesterday. She tries to act confident, but I know she's worried and wants you closer to home. And Luna is frantic with Ron so far away and the baby due so soon. Gin said she hasn't even tried to bend her ear about fluffwockses for a week." The corners of Hermione's mouth twitched, and she prayed that if anything escaped her tight façade it would be a giggle and not the sobs that threatened behind her eyes. "I'd like Neville to stay, if he's willing. Susan and I still don't get on well. She'll just be underfoot and irritating even though she won't mean to be and I'll end up snapping at her. I can't handle her grating on my nerves right now. I have enough on my plate as it is."

Harry nodded and stepped forward, pulling Hermione into a crushing hug. She heard his low murmur in her ear. "If you need anything, tell Neville. He'll get a coded owl to us. Send word as soon as Malfoy wakes up or…well, send an update soon." He cleared his throat and pulled away from her. With one last comforting smile he was gone, leaving Hermione to wonder if her best friend had managed to guess her feelings for her patient.

xoxoMoxox

"Hey, Neville." Hermione had come down the stairs quietly after sitting at Draco's bedside for nearly two hours watching him sleep to find Neville seated in the large updated family room watching football on television. She'd changed into a pair of denim cut-offs and a red tank top, thankful she'd remembered to pack for warmer weather than they were used to this time of year.

"Oh! Hey, Hermione." Neville twisted around on the sofa to look at her. "How is he, then?"

She walked into the room and dropped down beside him. "The same, I think. He hasn't moved a muscle. Sometimes he'll breathe deeply enough that I can see his chest move, but mostly I keep holding my hand under his nose to make sure he's alive." She sighed.

Neville had muted the television and they sat in silence for several minutes. "Harry said that I should…that is, if he…well, if he can go home tomorrow I'm to take you both with me when I leave." Hermione understood what gentle Neville couldn't bring himself to say aloud, that Harry had asked him to bring Draco's body back if he passed during the night. She nodded.

"I can't think of anything else I can do for him right now. If I could get him to wake up for even just a moment I could make him take some water…" her voice trailed off weakly in defeat. Lost in her own self-recriminating thoughts, she was surprised to feel Neville pat her shoulder.

"If anyone can bring him back from the edge of death, it's you."

Hermione smiled weakly. "Thanks. I guess that's true. There is _no_ healer I know of who has done as much reading and research on the subject as I have."

"That's true enough." Neville chuckled. "But more than that, Hermione, you care. There's nobody else who would care for Malfoy the way you do."

Surprised, Hermione's eyes flew to his face and she saw the truth there of what he knew. "How…?"

Neville shrugged self-consciously. "I went up to check on you earlier. It was like you were in a trance. I called your name and you didn't even hear me. You just sat there, holding his hand. I could see it on your face, Hermione. It's the same way Hannah looks at me sometimes, and when she does I feel bloody invincible. If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to. And you know I won't tell anyone. But I understand."

Hermione felt like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, while at the same time she sank a bit deeper into her despair. If Draco lived, the knowledge of her rejection would include someone besides herself and Ginny. She would trust Neville with her life – and she had. But sometimes he was so darn sympathetic, she just knew it would all be worse somehow. However, those were worries for another day. So she grabbed for dear life onto the secondary emotion she was feeling and a chance to change the subject. "Oh no, I'm so sorry Neville. I completely forgot you've been seeing Hannah. She must miss you terribly and now you have to stay behind and babysit me," she said contritely. "I should have just let Susan stay."

Neville shook his head and grinned. "I think a little time away from each other is good for us. I wouldn't want her to be too sure of herself. After all…" Neville puffed out his chest in a satirical attempt to look like the player they both knew he wasn't, "a war hero dubbed a 'studmuffin' by Rita Skeeter has his options, and better she knows it. It will keep her on her toes." Hermione giggled, relieved by the break in the tension, and Neville released his Adonis pose, still smiling. "Besides, I've been carrying my Gran's engagement ring around in my pocket for a week. I'm thinking that if I pop the question when I get back she'll be too grateful I'm alive to think of saying no."

Hermione hugged her friend. "Oh Neville, I'm so happy for you. I know she'll say yes, no matter what. She's lucky to have you." She did an admirable job of keeping her voice steady, as her vicious mind taunted that she may never experience the sort of happiness all of her friends had achieved.

Neville pulled away after a moment, his face red. "Yeah, well…how about some cards, Hermione?"

Hermione's eyes went to the stairs. She'd already been away from Draco for nearly fifteen minutes, and she was anxious to get back. On the other hand, she couldn't stand the thought of hurting her friend's feelings. As she waged an internal war, Neville abruptly stood and stuck out his hand. "Come on, then. We'll take the deck upstairs and play in the room. You don't have to choose between us." Pulling her to her feet, Neville put his arm around her shoulders to guide her toward the stairs as she sighed deeply and leaned against him in relief and gratitude.

xoxoMoxox

"Oi, my back is starting to cramp." Neville lifted his arms and stretched the muscles that had been bent over the small side table where they'd been playing for ages. "It must be getting late."

Hermione put down the cards she was shuffling and checked her watch. "Oh, goodness! It's after three o'lock!" She was surprised how much more quickly time had passed with the distraction. "You probably want to get some sleep," she said reluctantly.

"Yeah, a few hours. I need to leave before seven. Unless…" his eyes trailed to the bed.

With some trepidation, Hermione stood and moved to Draco's side. She couldn't perceive his chest moving, and she prayed his breathing had merely gone shallow again. Lifting her fingers to his face, she placed them beneath his nostrils and waited. After a beat, she breathed a sigh of relief. "Just sleeping."

Neville nodded jerkily, and she knew that he was as relieved as she. Neville forgave easily, and cared deeply, and she knew that he considered Draco a friend since they'd been working together for nearly a year. "Right, then. Well…goodnight, Hermione." He stood and paused to peck her cheek as he passed by on his way out of the room.

"Goodnight Neville." Once she was alone again, she pulled her wingback chair away from the grouping they'd made for their game and back to the side of the bed. She checked that it was close enough to let her grip Draco's hand while still sitting comfortably, then settled in. She couldn't possibly sleep; she doubted she'd sleep at all until they all knew Draco's fate…one way or the other. If she let herself rest and then awoke to find him…gone…she'd never forgive herself. She'd always wonder if he'd had a moment of awareness, a moment during which she could have told him how much he was loved before she lost him forever. No, she wouldn't sleep a wink.

The minutes dragged past. The old house creaked and clicked and squeaked as it settled around her, but otherwise all was silent. Draco's hand was limp in hers, and it worried her that it was so clammy. Leaning forward, she placed her free hand against his forehead to find it burning and damp with sweat.

_ Fever_, her mind thought numbly. _He has a fever, possibly an infection_. Mechanically she stood and walked to the bathroom. She took a basin from beneath the sink and a stack of cloths from the pile on the shelf. She filled the basin with cold water and returned to Draco. With the realization that his odds of survival had just gone from slim to nearly definitely nonexistent, her mind had switched off. It was if she was watching herself act from outside her body.

Hermione carefully sat on the edge of the bed and scooted as near to him as she dared. Placing the basin in her lap, she dipped a cloth in the water and then slowly and gently rubbed it over his face. Returning to the bowl, she prepared another and began to wash his arms.

"I wish you could talk to me," she whispered. "Even if you were foul, I'd give anything to hear your voice." When he remained expectedly silent, she continued her ministrations.

"What would we talk about, I wonder? You always like to tell me dirty gossip about people we know from Hogwarts." She smiled as she tenderly lifted one of his hands and wiped each individual finger. "Pansy Parkinson got herself engaged after you left the ministry, you know. You'll never guess who it is." She paused as if giving him time to reply. "Justin Finch-Fletchley! He works in the Department of Mysteries now. I don't know if I told you that." She continued silently for a few moments, imagining that Draco was adding his thoughts on the matter. "Justin is so good-natured, you know. I'm not even sure he saw it coming. I'm certain Pansy targeted him more for the Finch-Fletchley Empire than for himself. Of course, I can't feel very sorry for him since he's so easily distracted by a tight sweater that he lets himself be trapped," she sniffed, remembering a comment the man in question had once made about her hair when they'd been in school together.

Hermione threw the used rag into the basin and looked at Draco. Once she'd ascertained that there were no significant injuries besides the ankle below his waist, she'd left his pants on and had removed only his shoes, socks and shirt. Most of his torso was bandaged and he was covered with a blanket up to his chin, his arms out. Gently she began to roll the blanket back, thinking she should probably wash around his wounds. Once his chest and abdomen were fully uncovered, she caught her breath and fought to shove away the stupid girly reaction that wanted to wrestle her task-focused mind for supremacy.

She'd been too distracted dressing his wounds before to really look at him. And, to be fair, he'd been covered with blood. She'd been able to tell during their time working together that he'd put on muscle since they'd graduated, thanks to the custom-tailored suits and silk shirts he always wore to the office. But even her very active imagination had fallen short of reality. Draco's shoulders and biceps were compactly sculpted with lean muscle, curving in a way that was singularly masculine. The fine shadow of raised muscle showed beneath his marginally defined pectorals, and his abdominals were sharply contoured and rippled like those of a model she'd seen in _Playwitch_ once. Not that she ever looked through that smutty publication, however, her brain thought defensively. She could feel a blush spreading hotly over her face. He looked, she thought, like a statue of a Grecian god sculpted out of pale, priceless marble.

_Stop it this instant! Draco needs you, stop being so silly! _With these sharp thoughts Hermione pulled herself together and dampened a clean cloth. She'd turned on the overhead fan in the bedroom of the muggle house and as she gently pulled the damp fabric across the flat surface that was the top of his chest, she noticed that he sprouted goose bumps. Hoping this was a good sign, she quickened her actions and began to carefully swab around his wounds.

Once she'd gone over all the skin she could reach once, she shifted slightly so that she could access his face again. Wiping a fresh, cold cloth over his skin she was surprised and relieved to find that he felt not quite as warm to her touch. Maybe, just maybe she had caught the encroaching fever before it had a chance to really settle in. If she could keep his temperature down and his wounds clean, he might avoid an infection. Remembering what her dad had once told her about how much body heat one could lose or gain through the top of the head, she dipped her hands in the water and used them to wet his hair. She laid a wet rag over the top of it, reminding herself to change it every couple of minutes so that it didn't become warm and start holding heat in. Then she began to cleanse the skin around his wounds again.

"Ron and Luna are due soon with their first baby. She's a bit frightening when she's expecting, to tell you the truth. I think I'd rather have her as loony as Professor Trelawney than as on-edge as she is now." Hermione wondered if Draco would care two jots about what was happening in the life of the redhead he still called Weasel, despite their recent companionship, if he were awake. She was running out of conversation topics. Mentally scrambling for something else to discuss, she applied the corner of the rag to the edge of the wound in his side.

"_Hiss_!"

Hermione froze. Had she really just heard that? Please, gods, let her have heard what she thought she had. Timidly, her hand shaking terribly, she pressed the rag to the same place on his body as she watched his face.

"_Hiss_!"

There is was! Draco's upper lip had pulled back a fraction of an inch, and he'd hissed through his teeth in pain exactly as he had in third year when she'd slapped him. Hermione laughed like a loon for several seconds, and then suddenly she was sobbing with relief. She knew he wasn't even close to being out of the woods, but if his consciousness was so close to the surface then he couldn't be wracked with sepsis. She pressed her fingertips to his forehead.

_Cool. He was cool._ Dashing the tears from her eyes, Hermione quickly cleaned up the basin and rags and set them on the bedside table. Sliding her legs out from beneath her, she turned and lay stretched out on her side, facing him but keeping nearly a foot of space between them. She situated her head on the spare pillow. She wouldn't sleep, but she couldn't bear the thought of being any farther away.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own any part or parcel of the Harry Potter franchise (thought I exploit them shamelessly). The characters and all content true to the original stories, including but in no way limited to direct bits of dialogue, are the sole property of Joanne K. Rowling. The original plot of this story _does _belong to me. However, I have received no financial gain from the writing of this story, but do it solely for my own amusement and (I hope) yours.

Author's Note: I apologize if Draco's recovery seems quite rapid. My argument is well, unicorn hair and…and…well, do you _really_ want to read two-three more chapters about him sleeping? I thought not! Lol Also, there was a mention of television in the last chapter and there will be one of a car in this one. Hey, it's post-war and the aurors have been utilizing safe houses in muggle areas; the adaptations are natural, right? Eh, if you don't like it then skip those parts. They're not important (although, there is a funny scene with Draco on a plane coming up in a couple of chapters.)

ALSO: SEXUAL SITUATIONS BEGIN IN THIS CHAPTER! IF YOU ARE A MINOR, LEAVE NOW! Or…at least don't tell me.

xoxoMoxox

Hermione was still lying beside Draco staring at his profile when Neville knocked hesitantly at the door a few hours later. "Come in."

Neville cracked the door and stuck his head in. His eyes flitted briefly over Draco's still form before moving to meet Hermione's gaze, and he seemed to be gathering his determination. "Is he still…?"

"He's alive." Hermione shifted and sat up, relaxing against the upholstered headboard. "I think…I think he might be a little better." There was cautious hope in her voice. Draco had made it through the night.

Neville expelled the breath he'd been holding with a big _whoosh_ and grinned broadly. "Right, then. Well, I need to get back. There's supposed to be a car waiting for me on the main road, so I need to be leaving." He would drive miles away and find an area of a field or forest from which to disapparate.

"The main road?" Hermione's brow furrowed. The main road was all the way on the other side of the huge acreage, the forest and a field. "You aren't going to apparate there from here, are you? Harry was lucky they couldn't trace us in yesterday. Another attempt will make us vulnerable."

Neville shook his head. "I'm walking. It's only about five miles."

Hermione looked thoughtful, then nodded. "It can't be helped, I suppose." Moving slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, trying not to bounce Draco too much. She walked to Neville and embraced him. "Send me an owl and let me know you made it safely. And don't forget to invite me to the wedding!" She pulled away and smiled.

Neville smiled back at her. "Thanks, Hermione." After a brief hesitation, he bent and kissed her on the head before scurrying from the room. A few minutes later, Hermione heard the front door open and close. She jogged down the stairs and secured the three locks back into place before she forgot. Magical protection was better, but the muggle in her was still comforted by the solid _thunk _of a deadbolt sliding home. Then she returned to her chair at Draco's side.

Hermione was exhausted. She regretted now not getting any rest while Neville was here. What had she been thinking? She hadn't been. Logical Hermione had mostly taken a hiatus as soon as she'd set eyes on injured Draco. She sighed. She didn't dare fall asleep now.

Or did she? Hermione considered blearily, the two sides of her person muddling with worries about both the terrorists and normal muggle baddies who might want in. The door downstairs was triple locked, and they were protected with hundreds, maybe thousands of wards. If she also locked the bedroom door…After all, there was no telling how long they would be here before Draco was up to travelling. What good would she be to him if she died herself of exhaustion? Determined, Hermione stood and crossed to the door of the room, quickly turning the lock to secure it. She padded back to the bed and returned to her previous spot along the near edge, about a foot away from her patient. Relaxing into the mattress, she closed her eyes and was unconscious in seconds.

xoxoMoxox

"Damn Grang'r, your feet'r like ice. Get'm 'way from me." The slurred words broke through Hermione's haze of sleep. The voice was rusty and soft, but familiar.

"Sorry," she mumbled thoughtlessly, pulling her feet away from where they'd been pressed against Draco's warm calf. Draco…_Draco!_ With a shriek, she shot to a sitting position and looked down at him. "Draco? _Draco?_"

He continued to sleep, but she knew she hadn't dreamed it. He'd spoken! He'd spoken a full, if not quite eloquent, sentence. As she studied him, Hermione realized that he was drawing deep, even breaths that moved his chest enough to be easily seen. She squeezed her eyes closed as she felt the tears of relief coming. _Thank you, thank you, thank you. _She knew in her heart he was going to make it.

xoxoMoxox

Draco slept the rest of that day and halfway through the next before his eyes fluttered open around 1 o'clock in the afternoon on the third day. The first thing he saw was Hermione, smiling down at him while she sat on the edge of the bed holding his hand. "Hi," she said softly.

Draco tried to speak, but found that his mouth was as dry as a desert. Running his tongue around the inside, he cleared his throat and tried again. "Am I alive?"

Hermione lifted a waiting glass of water from the bedside table. Slipping one hand behind his head, she helped him take a few precious sips as she answered. "Of course you're alive, silly. Why would you think otherwise?"

_Because you're here, we're alone, and there's a bed. That seems pretty much like my version of heaven. _"Just checking." He tried for a smirk, but he could feel that it was more like a grimace.

After he'd had his fill of water, Hermione fussed over him, helping him sit up in the bed against a pillow and changing out the blanket for a clean one. Once everything was organized in Hermione fashion, she returned to the chair at his bedside. "We'll wait until your stomach has been awake a few hours, then we'll try some broth. There are several cans in the stores the auror trainees left in the pantry."

"Broth. Splendid." Draco could tell that Hermione was worried about him still, despite her bravado, and he strived to be as normally caustic as possible. He considered his efforts a success when she smiled.

"Well, I apologize that it isn't boeuf bourguignon, Mr. Malfoy, but we'll have to make do here at chez invalid."

An awkward silence settled for a few moments.

"What happened while I was out of it, Granger?" Draco wasn't sure if he really cared, or whether he just wanted to fill the silence. Either way, he enjoyed the sound of Hermione's voice as she recounted the last few days.

"…I was the most worried in the wee hours of yesterday. I thought you might have an infection, since you seemed to be developing a fever. But I managed to hold it off."

"How?"

"Erm…well…that isn't important." Hermione couldn't bring herself to relate how she'd gently sponged him and touched him in his sleep. Suddenly, the words she'd begged the powers that be to let him live to hear seemed much harder to say. Ironic, she thought, that once the pressure went away, so did the urgent need to spill her feelings. The possibility of humiliation that had appeared so unimportant before was now driving her silence.

_Was Granger blushing?_ Draco lifted one brow in a look of clear disbelief and suspicion.

"I think talking to you helped. I didn't know if you could hear me…"

"I don't think so. I don't remember that. I don't remember _anything_ before…" He wrinkled his brow. "Were you in bed with me?"

Hermione gulped. "Um, no. That is to say, I was not _in_ bed with you per se. I mean, I was _in_ the bed, but not _with you_. Of course, you were there…" She sighed in frustration. "I was fully clothed. I was simply trying to get some rest. There was nothing…_untoward _about it. She pursed her mouth primly in a way that made Draco wish he had the energy to snatch her against him and kiss her. _Ha! Right, like she would let you, _his mind scoffed at him.

"The first time you regained consciousness you told me to get my cold feet off of you."

"_That_ I remember." A pause; then, "you talked to me?"

She smiled. "I tried to come up with all of the gossip I thought you'd be interested in. I suppose I had the crazy idea that if I thought of something stimulating enough, you'd wake up."

Draco managed a better version of his smirk this time. "Well hell, Granger. You should have just told me what color knickers you were wearing. I guarantee _that_ would have been _stimulating_ enough to raise even an _already_ dead man!"

He waited for her to laugh or even admonish him in that way that was so her. Instead, she froze, staring at him with huge eyes.

The smile slowly faded from his own face, and he knew that the same memory that had just hit him was in her mind, as well. Once again he could see the way she looked that night in their shared office, the moment that could so easily have altered their relationship. Well, one of many moments, he admitted to himself. Merlin, he could change their relationship right now. He could tell her…he could tell her. But what if it didn't bring the result he wanted? What if it pushed her further away? After so many months away from her, was it even fair to just spring it on her? He just couldn't do it. Instead, he rushed to fill the silence of the awkwardness he'd caused with different words.

"Erm…well. Hey, why does my ankle hurt?"

Hermione, looking relieved, rushed to explain what she'd found when she arrived. Afterward, she detailed how she planned to re-break the bone later in the week so that it could be set correctly.

"And you just expect me to lay here and let you torture me?" Draco was affronted. "Oh, I'm sure you'd enjoy that!" He settled carefully back against the headboard with a huff.

Hermione frowned at him. "It's for your own good, Malfoy! If you leave it the way it is you won't even be able to walk properly again."

"Says you! You're probably just looking for revenge for all that work I left you with in January."

Standing, she plunked her hands on her hips. She felt her anger rising at the thoughtless reminder of his cold-shouldered abandonment and tried to tamp it back down. "You are just trying to pick a fight because you're miserable. I'm not going to stand here and put up with it. I am going downstairs to watch some television and have some alone time. Then I'll bring you some soup. In the meantime, take those tablets on the table next to you and try to rest." She moved toward the door.

"Oh yeah, _alone_ time? Is that _special _alone time, Granger? Missed me so much that you're getting too worked up being so close to me?" His face was caught halfway between a smirk and a sneer as he mentally cringed at himself for using such a tactic to break the sexual tension.

Hermione rolled her eyes and stomped from the room. He kept the sour expression on his face until she'd gone, leaving the door open in case he needed to call for her.

Well…damn. He missed her.

xoxoMoxox

"Granger? Granger!"

"Oh! Hmm?" Hermione looked up from the book she'd been reading in the chair next to Draco's bed.

"I need help."

Hermione put her book down. "Of course. What do you need?"

Draco sighed with semi-genuine irritation and looked at her pointedly. "Well, I've had three glasses of water and a bowl of broth. I'll let you try to _guess_ but if you take too long there's going to be a mess for you to clean up."

Hermione blushed as the realization dawned that he needed to use the loo. She'd really prefer that he stayed off the ankle, but she had no supplies for a catheterization, so what choice did they have? Standing, she walked around to his side of the bed and pulled back the blanket.

"I'm going to shift you around so that you can put your feet on the floor. Then, when you stand, lean into me and try to keep your weight off of your right ankle." With slow measures and a few false starts, they managed to get him up and hobble together into the master bathroom.

Draco stood before the toilet on his good foot. He steadied himself with one hand on the pony wall next to the toilet and began to unfasten his pants with the other hand. Looking up, he noticed that Hermione was still facing him, seemingly fascinated by his actions.

"I certainly don't mind if you want to watch, Granger, but I must confess you might give me performance anxiety."

With a choked gasp, Hermione spun away from him so that her back was facing Draco as he did his business. _Stupid! Could you _be _more obvious? _What had she been thinking, standing there like an idiot? _You were thinking you were finally going to see it! You were thinking that he was going to pull out his big, fat—_

"Granger, I'm finished now." Abruptly cutting off the perverse little voice in her head, Hermione helped Draco over to the sink. He looked thoughtful as he began to wash his hands.

"I stink, Granger. I'd like to have a bath."

Hermione was hesitant. "I don't know if that's such a good idea. Some of those wounds have only just closed."

Draco looked so disappointed, that Hermione wished her unfailingly reasonable side would allow her to change her mind. Compromising, she said, "If everything looks good tomorrow evening, it should be all right then." He brightened, and she tried not to take it to heart.

Once Draco was settled back in bed they started a game of rummy that stretched into the evening. When they both became sleepy, she crawled onto her edge of the bed and they slept comfortably until morning.

The next day passed uneventfully. Hermione received Neville's owl in the morning, noticing by the date on the missive that it must have gotten lost. _Must be one of Errol's relatives_, she mused. She dashed off a response, including a note for Neville to pass on to Harry.

She and Draco played cards and checkers and muggle chess, and she read aloud to him from a copy of _Moby Dick_ she'd found in the home's library. She repeated the things she'd told him while he was unconscious, and they gossiped about a few more of their old classmates. Finally, the sun set.

Hermione took a quick shower of her own, and then checked Draco's bandages. She had been changing them daily, and each time was a test to her self-control. On one hand, he was so sexy, even injured, that she wanted to strip him down and do things to him she'd only read about in the steamier romance novels that she kept hidden under her bed. On the other, though his wounds were healing at an exceptional rate thanks to the unicorn hair sutures and actually looked very good, the evidence of how close she'd come to losing him made her want to throw her arms around him and never let go.

"Everything looks good!" She smiled. "Fifty points to Slytherin. I think you've earned your bath tonight, mister grade-A patient."

Draco smiled in return, looking relieved. It wasn't until she had helped him maneuver into the bathroom that they both realized the repercussions of this action.

She was going to see him naked.

Draco looked down at her. She looked up at him. They both seemed to stop breathing for a moment.

"Well," said Hermione briskly, "let's get this over with, shall we?" She left him leaning against the sink vanity as she walked over to run his bath.

_Okay Draco, this is it, _he told himself. _You just survived an experience that would have killed anyone else. You are strong. You can do this. Just pretend she's someone who doesn't interest you in the slightest. She's…Millicent Bulstrode. You're just going to have a bath and then go back to bed. And _you, he thought, staring at his crotch, _YOU are going to _behave! Steeling himself, he began to unfasten his pants.

Hermione let the tub fill with warm water until the surface was about an inch from the rim. She turned the knobs to shut off the flow and stood from where she sat on the edge of the bathtub's garden-style platform.

_You can do this. You are a competent healer. Better than competent. Draco is your patient. There is nothing more to it than that. He is depending on you, so get it together. After all, it's only Dra…_

As she turned, Hermione's mental pep talk stuttered and died away with a little whimper of yearning that she hoped was only in her head. Holding onto the vanity, Draco had managed to divest himself of his khakis and boxers and was standing in the altogether.

_I am not going to look. I am not going to look. I am not going to look._

Hermione quickly swallowed a gasp when she gave into the inevitable and looked. Draco's penis stood at half-mast, bigger than any she'd ever seen, even in…well, that magazine she never flipped through. He wasn't very hairy, and the pink skin was so pale that she could see the thick blue vein that ran along the underside. As she watched, he began to harden more, and it pulled closer to his belly until the prominent, smooth, round head was almost kissing his navel. She could nearly picture herself, dropping to her knees before him and pressing her lips to it…

"See something you like, Granger?" Draco had tried for an acerbic tone, but his voice was so choked with desire he knew he'd missed by a kilometer. He was sure he couldn't be imagining the naked want in her eyes. He'd never allow himself such an indulgence. However, he reasoned with himself, her lust for his penis after a long dry spell did not, necessarily, translate into lust for _him_.

His voice shook her out of her trance. "Uh…um…sorry! Where were we? Oh yes, bath!" Hermione blustered ahead, as if the moment had never happened. Moving to his side, she helped him walk to the tub and carefully climb in. When he tried to settle against the slanted tub back, however, he found himself sliding too far down into the water.

Hermione caught his shoulders and helped him scoot up, but it was no use. His back muscles weak from disuse and his right foot useless for leverage, he just kept sliding until his face was slipping partially under the water. With a groan of frustration, he gave up. "It's no use. I'll just get out and have a sponge bath."

Hermione chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. She had an idea, but it would require torturing herself beyond what she was sure she could withstand. She almost ignored it and helped him rise from the water, but the plain disappointment on his face made her silently chastise herself for her selfishness.

"No, wait a minute. Turn and hold onto the side of the tub right here and don't look." When she was sure Draco was secure and had his head pointed away from her, she quickly stripped off her gray cotton lounge shorts and Chudley Cannons tee-shirt, leaving her in just her serviceable white cotton bra and matching panties. Leaning over the tub, she slid her hand beneath Draco's back to push him forward a bit, then awkwardly climbed in behind him. "There, now lean back against me. That's right." She carefully helped Draco turn back and position himself so that he was relaxed against her in the same way that she was resting against the back of the tub.

Instantly Draco knew this was a _bad_ idea. He should insist that she help him get off – OUT! Help him get out! But he knew himself well enough to know that he wouldn't. Since when did he shrink away from bad ideas? Giving in to temptation, he leaned his head back against her shoulder and felt her high, round breasts press against him in return.

He was startled by something cold on his scalp, and he realized that she was squeezing shampoo into his hair. _Hallelujah_. He'd caught a glimpse of it in the mirror and it was so matted and greasy he was surprised she hadn't stayed away from him out of pure disgust. He sighed with pleasure as her fingers scrubbed his head, patiently working away the tangles in the strands of his hair. Once she was sure it was clean, she used her hands to scoop water over his head until all the suds were rinsed away. He rubbed his palms over his face to clear the extra water that had pooled in his eyes and that dripped down his cheeks and from the tip of his nose. He couldn't help but think they made a pretty good team.

Hermione picked up the washcloth she had left on the edge of the tub, trying to keep the rest of her body very still. Her legs were fitted on either side of Draco's, and he was settled between them. Her toes didn't quite reach the other end of the tub, so she couldn't brace herself. If she slid forward another inch or so, his bottom would be pushed right up against her crotch. She was terrified she might come just from the contact. She would have to drown herself right there if she did. So it was important to keep herself exactly where she was. Dipping the rag into the water, she began to lather it with the soap in her other hand.

Draco's eyes were closed. He could feel her moving behind him, but he really wasn't all that particularly interested in what she was doing. As long as she kept doing whatever it was that was jiggling those magnificent tits just right against the skin of his back, he was perfectly content. He felt the scrape of a wash cloth along his uninjured shoulder and he realized that she had started to clean him. He smirked. She'd called him spoiled for most of their acquaintance, but she was currently spoiling him far beyond any previous experience of his life.

Hermione worked the rag gently over Draco's shoulders, moving around his injury with care. She lathered his arms thoroughly, then lightly brushed the cloth over his neck and the chaste top of his chest. Finally, there was no putting it off any longer, and she prepared to wash his torso.

Later, she would tell herself that she had temporarily lost her grip on reality. That seemed like a popular defense on the muggle fictional court shows her parents had loved to watch when she was younger. It was certainly without conscious thought that she laid aside the wash cloth and lathered her own hands generously with soap. It was clearly an accident that her hands lingered so long on his abdominals, hovering just above the head of his penis as they painstakingly stroked and cleansed every tight ridge and bump that made her shiver. And she was positive that those appendages had been taken over by some mischievous little demon who _made_ them slide naughtily up over his pectorals until her palms covered his nipples. It was _definitely_ beyond her control when her fingertips began to trace circles around those nubs, teasingly, as her eyes drifted closed and her breathing began to grow raspy. Or was that his?

_"Granger!" _Her first thought was that he was in pain, and she froze. Merlin, what on earth was she doing? He was barely healed and she was _molesting_ him, using him for her own pleasure like some sort of trollop…

"Don't stop." Hermione gasped and tried to arch her neck enough to look down at his face. Was he serious? He wanted her to keep touching him? _"Granger!"_ This time, her name came out as a growled threat and she knew that he meant it. Slowly, she began to move her fingertips again.

Swirling around and around, getting ever closer to their destination but not yet touching those sensitive parts of him. Draco felt like his skin was on fire. He was going to explode, right here in this bathtub, like one of the Weasel twins' tricks. Oh gods, she was never going to get there. _Don't let her stop…please don't stop…_Suddenly she was there, and her thumbs brushed lightly over the hard buds of his nipples. Someone moaned. It should have been him, but he wasn't sure he had enough air in his lungs. Maybe it was her. He shuddered with pleasure, and the action bumped her, causing her to slide just a bit. It was enough. He felt something hot against the curve of his ass, and this time he knew the moan came from him. At the same time, she whimpered.

"Malfoy…Draco. Draco, we can't." Contradictory to her words, she bent her head to nuzzle just behind his ear and then lightly brushed her lips over the damp slope of his shoulder. She had to say it, though; it was the right thing to do. She even tried to pretend there was some conviction in it. But it had to be his call. He was going to have to reject her and end this, because she couldn't. If he didn't take her hands off of him now, she was going to touch every glorious inch of him.

She felt his hands glide along the smooth skin of her legs beneath the water. This was it. He was going to agree with her and push her away, and she would climb out of the tub and dress and then help him do the same. This moment would be shoved onto a shelf with the others and never mentioned again. She was rattled when he finally spoke, his voice holding some note of vulnerability rarely heard. "You don't want this?"

She thought about lying. It would be so easy to lie, to protect herself. _No, Draco, I don't,_ she practiced saying in her mind. _We're friends. That's all this can ever be. _She opened her mouth, fully intending to say just that. But the little demon who had taken over control of her hands was now directing her tongue. "Oh gods…I do. So much. Oh Draco…I want you so badly." Trembling with nerves, she buried her face in the silky dampness of his hair.

She felt his gasp in the jerk of his back against her. She waited…waited for him to ridicule her or, in a kinder way, tell her that he didn't feel the same. Reaching toward his chest, his hands found hers and lifted them. He wrapped her arms lower around his waist. She sucked in a breath as he brought her hands to his cock, but eagerly wrapped her fingers around him, one hand above the other, holding him like a cricket bat. Beneath her fingers his cock jerked hard, and he moaned again. She squeezed him gently and he whimpered. That sound of yearning coming from _him_ made her smile. It was the smile of Eve the moment she swallowed her first bite of the apple.

Hermione let go of him and trailed just the fingertips of one hand up the side and over the head of his penis. With the softest pad of her middle finger, she drew circles around and around the top of the plum-sized head.

"_Fuck woman,_" Draco managed through gritted teeth, "you're trying to _kill_ me all over again!"

Hermione giggled. She placed her lips next to his ear so that she could whisper into it. "I think it's time for us to get out of the tub, Draco. The water's getting cold and we wouldn't want anything to…shrink."

Quickly she aided him as he completed the business of washing what hadn't yet been, then Hermione climbed from the tub and pulled the plug to drain the water. She helped him out and to bed, pulling the covers back fully on the bed so that he could slip naked between the sheets. While she had the opportunity, she examined his healing wounds again.

"I think I'll wait to put new bandages on these. They're closed, and the fresh air will do them some good." She smiled up at Draco, ready to tease him about the good he could now do her. His face was pale and pinched, and she realized what an effort it had been for him to make it back to the bed. Merlin, she was in panties and a bra made see-through by token of the fact that they were both soaking went and he didn't even seem to notice. Instantly she felt guilty. Mercy, she'd been right before. He was still far too weak for this. She had no business enticing him so soon after his ordeal! If he did want her now, how certain was she that it wasn't merely because of his susceptible state and the fact that she was the _only_ woman within kilometers? Gods, she was an idiot. This couldn't happen. He could end up reinjured, and she…she _would_ end up _hurt._

Swallowing her disappointment she said, "Why don't you get some rest? I'm going to change and read a little."

Draco looked like he was about to say something, then thought better of it. He nodded, then settled his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. Hermione tucked the sheet around him and left to change into something decent.

The moment had passed. She couldn't help but feel a _little_ disappointed that they had both come to their senses. She'd probably never have the same chance again.

xoxoMoxox

Draco opened his eyes for the third time in five minutes and stared at the ceiling. He'd never be able to sleep. He was still hard as a rock and his gut was twisted with guilt over what had almost happened.

How could he have been so _stupid_? He wanted to kick his own ass in anger and disgust. Merlin, he'd just grabbed her hands and wrapped them around his dick like a damn bloody rutting pig. He'd always promised himself that if he ever got his Granger into bed, it would be everything that she deserved. She wasn't some Slytherin bint to be humped in a broom closet. Granger was sweet, and innocent. She probably barely knew anything about sex. _Well, barely anything she couldn't read in a book_, he thought with a smirk. Look how easily he'd just made her want him for a moment. He'd even wondered several times if she was still a virgin. Not that it would stop him if he had the chance to introduce her to sex, mind you.

Crossing his arms behind his head, he pictured how it would be if he had his full faculties and if she allowed him to seduce her into his bed. He'd cover the sheets with ever-living rose petals that would caress her bare skin as he touched her. He'd be gentle with her, and he knew that even vanilla, missionary-style sex would be so satisfying with Granger that he could wait years before trying anything that might frighten her. As he held her afterward he'd feed her strawberries dipped in champagne, and he'd kiss every inch of her face softly and tell her…tell her that he loved her. He'd tell her that he was sorry that he hadn't protected her. He'd swear to her that he'd never, ever let anything hurt her again…

Disgusted all over again, Draco grabbed the spare pillow and squeezed it in his fist. Only his Granger had ever brought out this side of him; this slightly sickening, mush-filled, _Gryffindor-like _side. And as much as it mystified him, he was even more shocked to find that, beyond the habitual repulsion, he…liked it. He liked the fact that there was a part of him, the best part, which was only for her. That was why he loved her. She was the only woman in his entire life that had brought that part of him to the surface.

Of course, none of that really mattered now, did it? He growled into the empty room in hopeless frustration. He'd feel fortunate if she let him within ten kilometers of her after today, or if she ever spoke to him again after they left this bloody house. Slytherin's balls, they'd been in a _bathtub_! After planning how he would play such an opportunity for so long, the first touch of her soft hands on his skin had turned him into a boneheaded baboon. All he'd been able to think about was having any part of her touching his cock, and since their position had barred his two favorite choices…make that _three_ favorite choices…

He felt himself stirring again and he shoved away that line of thought. Granger had been gone two hours, and if _that_ wasn't evidence of how bad an idea it was to try to progress their friendship further, what was it? He didn't want to lose her as a friend; he'd missed her more than he'd imagined possible since leaving the ministry, and he was a shitty friend for neglecting her. No matter how difficult it was to be near her and treat her platonically, he should have done it. He _would_ do it, from now on. Maybe she'd let him take her to lunch sometimes, or drop by on a Saturday for a movie. He could invite her to his flat to see all of the renovations he'd done on his own. He'd been surprised at how satisfying working with his hands was. _Okay, bad choice of words. Think friendly…think brotherly…_

"You're awake." Draco jerked his attention to the doorway, where Hermione stood uncertainly. She'd dressed in another pair of denim cut-off shorts and a sunflower yellow tank top with little spaghetti straps. In one hand she held a plate of crackers and sliced boiled egg, and in the other her book. "I made you something to eat. You'll have to stick with bland foods for a little while longer. I thought I would read up here if it won't disturb you."

"It won't disturb me." Draco carefully pushed himself into a sitting position, bolstered by the headboard. He was getting stronger, and it pleased him. Holding out his hand, he took the dinner plate from Hermione. He ate his eggs and crackers in silence and she settled into her usual chair and began to read.

"You called me Hermione." She was speaking to him, but her eyes were still on the page of her book.

"Pardon?" Draco paused in the act of placing a slice of egg onto a cracker.

"When I first arrived, just before you lost consciousness. You called me Hermione. Actually…" she placed the book face-down in her lap and finally looked at him. "It was more like Hermie, since you were mumbling, but I'm certain you meant my name."

Draco finished chewing and swallowing and moved his empty plate to the table beside him. "And? Is there something so strange about calling someone by their name?"

"Of course not," she snapped. "Only…well, yes. When it's you, I mean. You never call me Hermione. Only Granger."

"Does that bother you?"

"N-no…" She picked up her book again and appeared to commence reading. After a few moments, "I like it," she said, barely above a whisper.

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her book decisively. Setting it aside as she stood, she carefully climbed onto the bed and sat with her legs crisscrossed, facing him. She stared him straight in the eyes. "You left me."

"I know."

"I thought we were friends."

"We…are."

"You didn't even say goodbye."

"I know."

She was surprised. She'd expected him to be defensive and prepared with a dozen selfish reasons for his actions. But he only watched her in silence. "Why?"

Draco lowered her gaze to the blanket covering his lap and shrugged.

"Did I…it was something I did, wasn't it? The kiss?"

Draco sighed. _Here it comes_. He nodded. "It was building for a while. But yes, the kiss was the final straw. I knew…things couldn't be the same after that. It would have been too difficult to work with you, even to see you every day."

Hermione felt her stomach go queasy and her face turn red with embarrassment. Well, at least now _she_ knew for certain that _he_ knew how she felt. At least physically. The other she would keep to herself. He'd been chased by dozens of girls at Hogwarts who were only after his purported sexual skill. He'd reveled in it. If he was so uncharacteristically shaken by _her_ longing for him…no, she could never tell him how she felt emotionally about him. "I'm so sorry, Draco. I never meant to make things…awkward."

He shrugged again, feeling stupid for being so pleased to hear his name on her lips, and raised his eyes to her face with a half-hearted smile. "It's not your fault, Granger. You can't help how you feel." Shifting a bit on the mattress, he tried to sound empathetic and encouraging, though disappointment ate at his gut. "I want you to know…what happened earlier….well, I know that it's a fluke. I know that I tend to have…well, certain effects on women."

His expression was as close to self-deprecation as Hermione had ever seen him manage. She would have laughed if she wasn't so swamped with humiliation. "Oh." Wrapping her arms around herself, she nodded. "I understand. It shouldn't have happened, anyway. Even if _both_ of us wanted it, you're still healing in many ways. It was a stupid idea all around."

Draco nodded. "Yeah." He went back to staring at his lap, glad to feel that his cock had finally fully deflated in the disappointment of knowing for certain that she _didn't_ want him, only responded to him when he manipulated her into it. He wasn't an evil enough twit to use that power to maneuver her into a relationship.

"Malf…Draco. Draco, I want you to know…" she trailed off, and he knew that whatever she was about to say was going to be difficult for her. His stomach wrenched. Probably she was mentally preparing some drivel about how it wasn't him, it was her, and how she just knew he'd make some other woman very happy.

"I wouldn't have _done_ anything. Surely you know that. I wouldn't have forced my attentions on you, or harassed you. I was fully aware from the beginning that I am not your 'type.' I would never have fully deluded myself into believing that you…well, you had nothing to fear from me. I am sorry that you felt like you had no choice but to leave."

Draco wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Granger, what in the world are you about?"

She exhaled heavily in exasperation and rolled her eyes. "I just meant that you didn't have to run away. I never intended to burden you with the knowledge that I…that I want you," she finished quietly.

Draco was frozen in shock, and it took him a full tense and anxious minute to find his voice. "You…you want _me_?"

Hermione's eyes snapped angrily for a moment as she looked up at him. Was he delighting in torturing her? But no…his face appeared genuinely bewildered. Puzzled she said, "You know that I do. We've been talking about it for fully ten minutes!"

He drew in a breath. "You're not just talking about what happened in the bathtub? Because that…that was my fault. I was _trying_ to make you want me. That was…manufactured. You have…you've wanted me other times?"

Hermione started to feel overly warm as her agile mind fit together the pieces of their conversation. "Of course I did," she whispered. "Nearly constantly. I thought…I thought you finally felt it when you kissed me. I thought that's why you left." Her gaze flickering raptly over his face, she asked, "Draco…if you weren't talking about _my_ desire for _you_ before…what…what _were_ you talking about?"

Draco's heart was beating painfully against his chest. He knew she was waiting for his answer, but there was something so much more important he had to get out of the way first. It had to be done _now_. "Come here," he breathed.

Transfixed, she knee-walked across the mattress until their faces were inches apart. He reached out and helped her bring her knee across and over his opposite hip so that their faces aligned. Silently they stared into each other's eyes. Then his fingers were tangled in her hair, and hers were around his neck and finally, finally their lips met again.

This time he couldn't be patient, he couldn't be cautious. He immediately opened to swipe his tongue along the seam of her lips, and was surprised and pleased that she didn't wait for his urging. At the first parting of his lips she opened her mouth eagerly, and he angled his head so that they fit together like a glove. He dipped his tongue into her mouth and stroked the satin-smooth inside of her cheek. She gasped against his mouth, and he growled his pleasure low in his throat. Then it was his turn to gasp as he felt her shyly flick the tip of his tongue with her own.

They clung together, devouring each other for some minutes. The silence was broken only by soft inhalations and sounds of delight. He moved his hands from her hair to her hips, sliding them up under the hem of her shirt to stroke the baby-soft skin of her back and groaning with need when he found she wasn't wearing a bra. She brushed the side of his face with her palm and speared the fingers of her other hand through his hair at the nape. And still their lips remained adhered, pressing hotly, their tongues tangling sensuously. At last, they broke away at the same time, both gasping for air.

"Draco—"

"Granger—"

They started to speak at the same time, both halting abruptly when they realized it. She smiled. He smirked.

She scooted off of him and moved a few inches to the side. "You want me." She surprised herself by stating it, not asking.

"Yes. Every damn day. If I weren't such a gentleman, I'd show you proof." He looked pointedly down at the visible tent in the blanket.

"Oh." She blushed, but she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. Nothing was going to ruin the high of happiness she had going right now. "We probably shouldn't…"

"I know," he said, his words dripping with disappointment. "Even now I feel a bit dizzy, and all we did was kiss."

"In a manner of speaking," she purred brazenly. She drew courage from the knowledge that there was no longer _any_ mistaking his desire for her.

He chuckled. "True, kissing you is _not_ like kissing anyone else. Still, my poor, battered body remains a bit fragile for you to use and abuse it for your pleasure at the moment, Granger."

"Draco!" She pretended to be scandalized and slapped his good arm. He smirked again.

"Hopefully I'll be feeling braver by tomorrow," he said coyly. "For now, I think I'll get that rest that you recommended earlier." He slid down on the bed and settled in beneath the covers.

"That's a good idea. I'm feeling quite tired myself." The emotional rollercoaster she'd just ridden to happy land had worn her to a frazzle. She began to move toward her edge of the bed when she felt his hand on her arm.

"Lay next to me." It wasn't a request, but she knew her Draco and she knew that he wouldn't ask for things politely when he felt vulnerable to rejection. Without a word she climbed beneath the covers and lay on her back a few inches from him.

He grunted with discontent. Rolling onto his side to face her, he scooped a hand beneath her far hip and tugged until she had rolled up onto her other side and was pressed against him. Then he settled again, keeping her fitted to his side. She snuggled against him readily, being careful that her lower body wasn't touching the nearly-healed wound beneath his ribs. She felt him shift as he bent his arm and tucked it beneath his head so that it wouldn't be trapped between them. With his other hand, he picked up hers that was lying on his chest and moved it to his stomach. She released a shaky breath as he pressed her palm flat against the muscles there.

"This is your place, Granger," he announced in his best authoritative voice. "Learn it."

She couldn't think of a comeback she was satisfied with, so she merely smiled and tucked her face against his neck, drifting to sleep. A moment later, when she remained in his arms, he relaxed enough to follow.

xoxoMoxox

Author's Post Note: Don't worry, we're only about halfway through.

Author's Post-Post Note: Hey my dear readers, if you have the time and are so inclined, could you please give some love to my Drinny, "Yours, in Green Silk?" I took down and postponed my first Drinny that was getting NO love, but I am madly, passionately infatuated with the plot for this one and I reeeeeally want it to be well-liked. Please? TIA! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I use the term panty/panties in this chapter again (nearly immediately). I apologize to my Brits, but there is simply nothing sexy about the word "knickers"…especially when trying to maintain alliteration. The word "kipping," however, sounds very dirty and yet the act (napping) isn't at all…what's up with that? Oh well, carry on!

P.S. A big thanks to my lovely reviewers!

WARNING: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT! (And FLUFF, if you're the type that needs to be warned about fluff.)

xoxoMoxox

"The office Christmas party?"

"No."

"The night I accidentally flashed you?"

"No, even before that; though I did almost teach you a thing or two about teasing men to insanity with your dainty little feet and naughty panty peeks that night."

She blushed. "I give up. When was it?"

"Slughorn's Christmas party."

"No!" Hermione gasped in disbelief and giggled. It was a new day. They'd been awake about ten minutes, and neither had moved from the cozy sleeping position they'd taken once again when settling down for the night. For a long time they'd simply lain in silence, Draco toying with the fingers of her hand on his stomach. Finally, when her curiosity could stand it no longer, Hermione had asked when it was that Draco had first desired her. She'd been sure it must have been one of the days that they were working together, but he'd refused to tell her until she guessed. She felt his chin brush the top of her head as he nodded.

"Yeah. I was just coming up from the dungeons when you and McLaggen were leaving. I couldn't see you then because the two of you were in the shadows, but I could hear you. I thought you were up to something, so I followed. I was hoping you were breaking the rules so that I could turn you in. I almost passed out when I saw you through that window, Granger." She could hear the wry humor in his voice.

"Really?" she asked, semi-flirtatiously. "Why?"

He scoffed. "Like you don't know. You were wearing that damn pink satin dress and every time you bent over the punch bowl or twisted away when McLaggen tried to paw you…Granger, that neckline was positively indecent. If I'd been paying attention to my surroundings instead of staring at your bouncing cleavage, Filch wouldn't have snuck up on me."

She grinned. "Something to remember for the future if I need to surprise you, then." He'd released her hand and without thinking, she trailed her fingertips lightly down his abdomen and over to his hip. When he murmured with pleasure, she guiltily snatched her hand away.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Granger."

Gently pulling away from him, she sat up. She arranged herself comfortably, resting on her knees perpendicular to his side. "I think it's time to check on the patient." She began to roll the blanket down to view his wounds, but stopped when he grabbed her wrist just as the fabric cleared his hips.

"One more roll Granger and you're going to meet someone who's very…_eager_…to see you this morning," he smirked.

Hermione, heart fluttering wildly in her chest, quickly glanced over the healing areas, noting that the skin was completely closed and was no longer red. She dragged her eyes to his face. "How's your shoulder?" He was lying on his back, and she was unable to see the final wound.

Draco's breath caught at the heat and determination in her gaze. "Just peachy."

She rolled.

xoxoMoxox

As Hermione stared in seeming fascination at his morning wood, Draco felt it twitch. He was so hard his cock was actually pressed against his stomach, and he knew it was physically impossible for him to be anymore turned on. His dick, jerking again, apparently disagreed. "Do you need step-by-step directions, Granger?" he ground out.

Without responding, she settled between his legs. She slipped her slender fingers between his flat stomach and his engorged penis and gently pulled him toward her lips. For a brief second she merely held him there, his head a whisper from the lush curves of them, and he dug his heels into the mattress, resisting the urge to thrust at her face. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he was lost. There was nothing but blissful heat and wetness as her sweet mouth enveloped him.

Hermione was out of her comfort zone. She'd tried this once or twice for Ron, but he was always so far gone just a few minutes into foreplay he could have cared less about her technique. None of her other relationships had developed to this point. She tried to remember the tips she'd read in…that magazine she never looked at. Really she didn't. After sucking the head for a few seconds, she released him completely. His groan of disappointment was cut short when she dragged her tongue up the sensitive underside, from the base of his shaft to the exquisitely tender spot beneath the crown. She wiggled her tongue there experimentally, and was rewarded when he jammed his fingers into her thick hair and thrashed wildly, whimpering as if he was being pleasurably tortured. With a quick flick of her tongue over the small hole in the very top, she sank her mouth fully onto him again.

"_Fuck, that's good_…So good. Lovely girl, sweet girl…" his slurred words spurred her on, and she grasped the base of his cock in her fist and worked him as she bobbed enthusiastically. Unseen, her tongue swirled quickly around as much of him as it could reach.

Draco's hips thrust toward her each time she descended, his breathing ragged. "_Ungh! _Oh Merlin, Hermione…I'm…I'm almost…you have to _STOP_!" he shouted desperately.

Startled, Hermione jumped back, releasing him from her mouth with a loud, hollow _pop_ and falling bottom-first onto the mattress. "Draco? What is it? What did I do? Are you in pain?" She wiped the saliva from her chin. Dammit, she'd been guessing on most of her movements; had she done something terribly wrong?

He was panting, sucking air deep into his lungs as he backed off the edge of orgasm. He tried to laugh, but it came out broken and slightly loony. "Oh, I'm in pain; a lot of pain. And you're going to cure it, Granger." Sitting up and reaching for her hand, he pulled her toward him and she walked over his body on her knees until she straddled his thighs. She was gazing down at him, clearly worried and bewildered, until he hooked his thumbs in her shorts and started to pull them down.

Hermione's concern evaporated. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, that wasn't _funny_! You scared me to death; I thought you really were hur—_oh_." He'd managed to work her shorts down to her knees, and he'd just dragged his knuckles along the line of heat he could feel through the white silk of her panties. Her eyelids drifted closed.

With her cooperation, he fully removed her shorts and tossed them to the floor. The tiny scrap of silk went next, and then he was petting her with barely-there strokes of his long fingers on the outside of her sex. "Yes, Granger? You were saying?"

"Mmm…hmm? Was I? Oh…yes…very serious…bus…business…" she moaned helplessly and dropped her face against his chest as his middle finger finally slipped between her puffy outer lips. Slowly he slid it up and down her velvety channel, teasing her mercilessly by never quite touching her clit nor penetrating that place that he could feel clenching greedily around nothing beneath his hand. He would have his revenge for her torture yesterday.

"Very serious business, you say? Would you like to discuss it now?" His tone was pure wickedness. He continued to rub. _Up…down…up…down…_never touching anything but that slick corridor.

A small, broken sob vibrated against his chest. "Please….please." Her hips were slowly tilting forward and back, seeking what they knew he could give her.

"Please what, Granger?" _Up…down…up…down…_

"Please…touch me."

"But Granger, I _am_ touching you." _Up…down…up…down…_Dizzily, he wondered how long she would allow this game to go on…and how long _he_ could last before the need to see the look on her beautiful face as she came overrode his craving to hear her beg him.

_Up…down…up…down…_She was silent for a few moments, save the small moans that escaped occasionally. Her hips rocked with a desperate rhythm. When she wriggled them backward trying to bump that sweet spot over his finger, he moved with her to prevent it. She growled, a feral sound he never imagined she could make, and Draco thought perhaps he'd pushed his luck too far. Then her head moved to his shoulder and he heard her barely-there, embarrassed whisper.

"My…clit."

_Not too far. She can still talk_. "Hmm? What's that about your clit, sweetheart?" _Up…down…_

She remained silent, quivering limply against him.

"Oh, would you like me to guess what you're trying to tell me about your clit? All right, then." _Up…down…_ "Hmm…are you trying to tell me that it's pink?" No answer but her uneven breathing and yearning mewls. _Up…down…_ "No? Let's see…" Draco had to stop and clear his throat, he was getting _himself_ so worked up. "Is it that it's sweet?" No answer. _Up…down…_ "I know! Is it swollen?" _Up…down…_He turned his head to whisper in her ear. "Is it _swollen_, Hermione?"

"_Damn you!" _She rose suddenly and slapped his chest with her palms. "_DAMN you_, you arsehole!" She was frantic, pushed to the edge. "_Touch it_! Touch my clit, you evil prat, rub it, _make me COME_, you fucking bastard!"

His blood was roaring in his ears as he slid his fingers up her sopping slit to eagerly obey her…request. He found the engorged little bundle of nerves with the pad of his index finger, already lubricated with her own juices, and began rubbing in quick circles…but without any pressure at all.

"YOW!" Hermione sank her teeth into his shoulder, and he knew the game was over. Pressing firmly now, he rubbed her, alternating his circles with up-and-down and side-to-side motions. At the same time, without warning, he sank the first and middle fingers of his free hand into her waiting cunt all the way up to the third knuckles.

Hermione was whimpering and moaning, all ten nails digging into his good shoulder. Fucking her with his fingers and never letting up on her clit, he could feel her tension building. "Come on princess, you're almost there. It's going to feel so good, I promise. That's right, baby…almost…let me feel you come for me."

She threw her head back with a strangled scream, and he watched in awe as she then went completely silent, her eyes squeezed closed and her mouth open wide. She shook for what seemed like minutes, her delicately boned face tinted pink with exertion. Draco removed his finger from her clit, but kept pumping the two within her to nurse her to the finish. She collapsed against his chest.

She was still gasping for air a minute later.

"Damn Granger, you're serious about getting yours. The Weasel must have permanent scars." Draco rolled his shoulder, which now showed a deep bite mark.

Hermione, still astonished that he could tempt her to act in such a way as she just had, buried her face against that shoulder. "No."

"No?"

She hesitated. "Draco, I've never…"

"You've never what?" He knew now that she wasn't a virgin.

"Um…I've never…um…you know…with anyone else." She leaned away from him and shyly glanced up through her lashes.

"_Never_? You've never come during sex?"

Apprehensively, she shook her head. "Not before now."

"But you have…before."

She nodded slowly. "By…by myself."

Draco tried to ignore the clenching in his gut that resulted from the mental images_ that_ particular confession evoked and which reminded him that he still hadn't gotten off. "Damn, sweetheart. I'll have to remember to thank Weasel for setting the bar so low."

Hermione smacked his good shoulder, but he chose to ignore her.

"Well, I'm pretty sure about one thing, Granger."

"Yes?"

Pretending to be mulling something over, he deliberately brought the finger he'd rubbed her with to his lips and licked the pad. "Mmm…very sweet. I was right on _all_ counts, wasn't I?" Grinning devilishly, he sucked her juices off the two fingers of his other hand, as well.

Hermione felt herself quickly getting turned on again. As if he could read her mind, Draco shifted position. Holding her against him, he slid forward until he could lie down fully again, his head on his pillow. Hermione was now sitting astride his thighs. He placed his hands on her hips.

"I fully intend to make up for the deprivation you've suffered, Granger. But you have a decision to make." He stroked his fingers up and down along her bare thighs, and she shivered.

"Which is?"

"I've had a lot of time to think about this, you know. I had an entire seduction scene planned for our first time together, a real chance to showcase my talents…" She rolled her eyes at him. "Not that I ever really thought it would happen, but I won't say I didn't fantasize about it a time or two." He paused, and she trailed her fingertips over his hip and up his uninjured ribcage to silently encourage him. "Instead, we're in a musty old house in a bed that Merlin-knows-who has used. Now, being the self-absorbed, impatient type that I am, I'm inclined to just lift you up and slam you down on my cock right now."

She gasped and he saw her eyes lose focus.

"But if that's not what you want…that is, if you want to wait…"

She'd lifted her hips and already had one hand around him, pulling him straighter. Hissing out a breath at her touch, he used his hands on her waist to help her lift herself high enough to fit him beneath her. Her hand started to guide him toward her entrance. He was off by a tiny bit, and he slid along her slit until the plump head bounced over her still-sensitive clit. She jerked and cried out and he groaned. After a moment, they tried again.

This time he slid home. Carefully, slowly, she lowered herself on him, centimeter by centimeter. Her eyes were closed, and she bit her lower lip in concentration. When she'd taken about half of his penis and it began to broaden significantly, she shivered. He watched her, trying to keep his mind from the tight, wet heat of her and silently praying that he didn't embarrass himself just from the sight. There could never, he was sure, be anything as erotic as the woman he remembered as the perfect little Gryffindor know-it-all squatting in nothing but a thin tank top, feeding his cock into her body. Finally, he was fully seated and he felt the warmth of her again on his legs. Tucking her knees beneath her, she leaned back and placed her palms on his shins, then began to raise herself.

"_Yes_!" He had known that it would be like this, hadn't he? The perfect fit, the feel of her clenching around him as she tried to get used to his size; but the reality was so much more incredible that it put his cheap fantasies to shame.

She started slowly, dragging languorously up until he was nearly unsheathed, then plunging down in an achingly slow descent. Over and over she repeated the motion, never building up enough speed to push either of them over the edge. He realized that she was teasing him the same way he had her. He slid his hands up underneath her shirt and found her nipples. He tweaked them and she moaned.

"That's right, angel, ride me." He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples again and he noticed that she quickened her pace. When he stopped, she slowed again. Determined to win their little game, he started to rub slow, steady circles over the hardened little buds. He moaned through clenched teeth as he throbbed inside of her tight passage, not wanting her to know how close he was to losing it himself. "Faster, sweetheart. You need to fuck yourself faster to get what you need, baby." He pinched and rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

She broke with the tiniest of whimpers. It was as if he could see inside her head, knew exactly what to say to make her crazy. Twisting her hips, she started thrusting at a frantic pace. She felt his hands leave her breasts and come to rest again on her hips. Whispering dirty, filthy words, he helped her move. _Up…down…up…down…more, more, MORE!_ She was so close; she just needed something to push her over the edge.

Draco's breathing was labored and his belly quivered. He knew he was seconds away, but he was going to use all his talents at being a stubborn ass to hold off his orgasm until he'd given her another. The way her little cunt was pulsating around him, he knew she was on the verge. He slid his hands from her hips to the area where their bodies were joined. With the thumb of his left hand he pushed away the hood of skin hiding the most sensitive, responsive nerves in her entire body. He dragged the edge of his right thumbnail over just the right spot, lightly and very quickly.

That scream again. This time, he missed seeing her face. With a grunt and a groan, he was spilling into her, coming harder than he could ever remember. They continued to move together, waiting out the aftershocks.

xoxoMoxox

_Oh shit, oh shit. _Hermione lathered soap over her torso and breasts, shivering when her fingers touched the tender bruises he'd left around her nipples. After a few minutes of post-coital cuddling, she'd slipped from the bed with the excuse that she needed to shower. It was the truth, but she also needed time to get herself together. She had never, _never_ acted that way in her life. Of course, she'd never been driven so completely mad with lust in her entire life, either. Now she understood what Lavender and Pansy and all the rest had meant so long ago; she was completely defenseless to him. One touch of his fingers and she'd turned into some sort of…of…

_Whore_, her mind supplied bluntly.

She pushed her face into the spray of the shower, belated humiliation rushing over with along with it. Gods, she had _begged_ him, hadn't she? She had practically attacked him, flagrante! _Of course, he didn't seem to mind…_Of course he didn't, she mentally responded to that little voice, he thinks I'm…one of _those_ women! _Maybe you are. After all, isn't this what you were looking for? Someone who makes you feel so passionate? So out of control? _

Ruthlessly she scrubbed shampoo into her scalp. Yes, that was what she was looking for; in a_ relationship_. She was surer than she was of even her own name that Draco wasn't looking for long-term. He just didn't do relationships. He'd enjoy her in bed for as long as it offered him some novelty, then move on to someone else once he got bored. Of course, they'd stay friends. If there was one thing Draco Malfoy was good at – _make that two things_ – it was managing to come out smelling like a rose. All the girls he'd loved and left at Hogwarts were still eager to tell her what a _wonderful_ guy he was.

_So? What's wrong with that? Use him right back. After all, what are the odds you're _ever _going to find someone else with whom you're so sexually compatible? Have your fun while it lasts and give yourself some memories for the days when you're rocking away in your living room with your fifty cats. _

She turned off the water and grabbed her towel. What to do, what to do? Was it possible to be anymore hurt later on than she would be if it ended now? _If it ended now you'd be just as devastated. You love him, stupid. That isn't going to change. Wouldn't you rather have something than nothing? Some kisses instead of not one? Aren't some blissful hours in his arms better than none?_

She slipped into Draco's boxers and button-down white shirt, both of which she'd washed in the sink and hung overnight to dry. Her clothes were soaking now, as she'd run out of clean ones. Rolling the much-too-long sleeves back to her elbows, she sighed. Emotional Hermione was going to win. Even now, she was aware that she was rushing to finish her constitutional so that she could return to him. Even if she decided to tell him no more, all he'd have to do is look at her and she'd probably strip naked and jump on him. She tried to feel surprise, but a tiny part of her had known this side of her existed. For many years, she had ignored it, hoping it would wither and die and stop causing turmoil. When it had tried to flare up, she had tamped it back down. In everyone else's eyes she was noble Hermione, good Hermione, perfect Hermione. They expected her to have all of the right answers, to make all the right choices. Ron had treated her as if she was made of glass, and the few others she'd dated acted as if they were out with Mother Theresa herself. She'd given up on being treated as a woman…until Draco. He'd looked into her eyes years ago and had seen what was hidden in her soul. Yes, he coddled her a bit; she believed out of guilt. But he also saw her as a challenge that he met head-on in all other parts of their lives. Now she knew that he could give her what her body yearned for, as well. With him, she was not clean Saint Hermione; she was his wicked, needy Granger. And Merlin, she couldn't give that up after being denied it for so long. So there really was no choice to be made at all.

Resolute, she pulled her wet hair up into a ponytail and picked her used towel off the floor. Well, there was one balm to her pride. She hadn't told him she loved him.

xoxoMoxox

Draco crisscrossed his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Granger had been…a surprise. He'd been fully prepared to spend the first year or so of their relationship easing her into fulfilling his carnal needs, yet now he only hoped he had the stamina and creativity to fulfill _hers_. His penis twitched slightly at the memory of being inside her, but it was just plain too exhausted to give it much effort. He scowled. He was still healing, and it was most irritating. Before this week he'd _never _been too tired. Well, at least they weren't pressed for time.

He stretched and smiled. He'd enjoy the time they had left here to the fullest. After all, once he and Granger returned to the "real world," he'd have to share her with work and other social responsibilities. He would miss having all of her attention focused solely on him, but they'd make due. They'd have to, if he was going to convince her to make a real go of it. Fingers of doubt eased into his mind, and he sighed. _Could_ he? Could _she _possibly want more than this? Even if she didn't now, was it possible to persuade her? After all, they were brilliant together in bed but he knew, because he knew _her_, how well-suited they were in _all_ aspects.

Both of them were intelligent, motivated, and highly ambitious. They were each passionate about their job because they were making the wizarding world better and safer. They liked the same books and movies, they laughed at the same jokes. In a million little ways, they complemented each other. But even more, they brought out astonishing and positive qualities in each other. He thought again about the tender, protective feelings that Hermione stirred in him. Never again could he be with a woman who _didn't _make him feel that way. And he knew beyond a shadow of doubt that no other man had brought out the wanton, reckless hedonist in her. A surge of lust zipped through him as he realized the he was the only man in the world who knew how naughty Hermione Granger could be.

All he had to do, he thought, was make her see that she couldn't live without indulging that side of herself. She could never be happy with only one dimension, with being the sweet, goody-two-shoes Gryffindor in front of the world _and _behind closed doors. Just as he needed to lock himself away with her to be her knight-in-shining armor from time to time, he knew that she needed his asylum; a safe place with no judgments where she could fall apart, make mistakes, choose to be the bad girl sometimes. That place was in _his_ arms, because he would always love her, no matter what.

_Well, I'll tell her that last part later. Much, much later._

xoxoMoxox

"Draco," Hermione tried her best sweet-as-syrup voice, "just let me touch it."

"No way, Granger, not happening."

"But it will feel so much better afterward, I promise!"

"Afterward, maybe, but what about before? You just want to torture me."

"Well how about this: I won't touch it right away if you just take it out and let me look at it."

"You looked at it earlier. Trust me, it looks the same."

"Draco, you're being stubborn. If you don't let me help you it's just going to stay that way."

"Then it can stay that way. I'm not keen on having your hands all over it when it's throbbing like this."

"Don't be ridiculous. How will you function? At best, it will be a distraction. At worst, it will completely handicap you!"

"Fine, take it out. But no touching."

"…Oh, my. I've never seen one that big. Or that shade of purple."

Draco's ankle had swollen in the last two hours. They'd both been reading, Hermione sitting in her chair and Draco propped against the headboard. She'd noticed he was unusually restless, and then she caught his wince as he shifted again. After four days of feeling nothing below his lower right shin, now it was causing him great pain. She had decided it was time to re-break the badly-set bone. Unfortunately, he was being a great big baby about it.

"We need to fix this." She sighed when he remained silent. "I don't understand. Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?"

"What do you mean?" He slouched, crossing his arms across his chest and appearing…well, the only word she could think of was _sulky_.

"I mean, you cannot possibly be the same strong, brave Slytherin prince who risked his own life for the good of wizarding society. Not if you're so frightened about having my little hands on your ankle."

_Brave? Strong? _He ignored the urge to pull her into his lap and plunder her mouth. Instead, he snorted. "Yeah, don't forget I saw you break the neck of a snatcher with your oh-so-delicate _little hands, _Granger."

"Draco Malfoy, you are just being difficult! I know you are sensible enough to see that this _has_ to be done."

He stared at the wall across from him for a moment, then grunted with irritation. "Fine. Just get it over with."

Quickly she set her hands to his ankle and gripped him tightly. She ignored his indrawn breath of pain, though her heart turned over. Twisting her hands just right, she cringed when the snap of bone and Draco's brief shriek of anguish announced her success. She scrambled up the mattress to wrap her arms around him and press her lips against his ear.

"Shh…shh, darling. It's over now." She waited until he was no longer breathing so deeply from the pain. Then she slid off the bed to gather her supplies.

"What are you doing now?" His voice was subdued, and it took all her willpower not to throw down the items in her hands and try to kiss him better when she was sure she heard him choking back tears.

"I'm going to wrap it with this," she held up a splint and a roll of cotton bandages, "and then you'll have to take a dose of this," she showed him the bottle of Skelegrow, "and then two of these," she brandished a bottle of muggle aspirin. She moved to the bed and gently began her ministrations. He fussed once or twice as she wrapped his ankle securely, and grimaced as he swallowed the tablespoon of syrup and the two bitter tablets. She leaned over to place the leftover Skelegrow on the floor in case she had to administer more, and heard him groan.

"Draco, I'm not even touching you anymore. What could possibly be –" she turned to find him staring intently at her ass.

Draco forgot all about his ankle as the blood rushed to his crotch. It had been bad enough when Granger had pranced out of the bathroom with her perfect little tits jiggling unencumbered beneath his shirt and her long, smooth, tan legs displayed to full advantage in _his_ emerald green silk boxers. Though he was lean, they were still more than several inches too large in the waist for her and, as a result, settled low enough to display the bottom curve of her tummy and her fragile pelvic bones as she leaned over the edge of the bed and the front of the shirt dropped open for his viewing pleasure.

If he'd thought just watching her walk around in that outfit was temptation personified, the vision she presented now was sensual hell on earth. Her rounded, heart-shaped ass was pressed against that thin silk, and her breasts hung, bouncing with every slight movement. He heard her talking, but he couldn't concentrate enough on her words to figure out what she was saying. Abruptly, his view was blocked when she turned.

"Hey!" She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Fifty points from Slytherin for ogling me when my back was turned."

She didn't sound angry, he thought. He was starting to feel very mellow; the aspirin was kicking in, as well as the relaxing effects of the Skelegrow. He reached for her with a smirk. "We'll see about that."

Hermione giggled as she went to him and straddled his lap. "Oh? You think you can earn them back, is that it?"

He began to slowly unbutton the shirt she wore. "I think each time you moan my name, it'll be ten points from Gryffindor, and then we'll be even." He slipped the shirt from her shoulders.

"You're on." She tipped her head back as he cupped her breasts in his hands.

She was the perfect size, he mused, filling his palms without overflow. He realized he'd been quite neglectful of this part of her as he bounced their fullness and squeezed lightly.

"_Dra—" _She quickly cut it off, but he shook his head.

"Uh-uh. That's ten points, Granger."

Pressing her lips together, she leaned forward to push her tits further into his hands. He worked them skillfully, finally releasing them to circle her areola with the pads of his middle fingers.

"_Oh, gods…Draco!" _She wriggled a little and groaned in frustration.

"You're rather bad at this game, Granger. Hard to believe Gryffindor won the House Cup so many times." He continued his circles, coming closer and closer to the centers with each rotation.

"Draco!" She said his name in impatient irritation, but he decided it counted, anyhow.

"That was a little too short, Granger, and a little loud. Try to stretch it out and make it softer and breathier, like before. Still, I'm a magnanimous guy. I can give O's for effort. Ten points from Gryffindor." He stroked his fingertips over the tightened pearls of her nipples and she moaned. Draco idly thought that they looked like candy. They were toffee-colored, the tinted areas around them a lighter shade of caramel. He leaned forward to find out if they tasted as sweet.

"_Yes! Yes, Draco!"_

He released her nipple from his mouth. "Much better, princess. You always were a fast learner." He went in again and laved her other nipple with his tongue. Scooping her breasts up in his hands, he pushed them high and tight. He flicked the tip of his tongue firmly against one nipple, then the other. She squirmed in his lap, rubbing her bottom over his cock that was quickly hardening beneath the blanket. He pressed his lips against one pebbled nipple and moaned. She whimpered in response.

Once he'd caught his breath, he began to taunt her again. "Just one more, Granger. Still think you can win?" With slow deliberation, he bent his head over one tit. He opened his mouth and descended, little-by-little. His gaze caught hers; his predatory and hot, hers drowsy and horny. He angled his head up so that their eyes held as his mouth encompassed her nipple. Suddenly, he bit down with just the right amount of pressure.

"_DRACO!_" She dropped her head and pushed her forehead against his as she desperately tried to wiggle closer to his body. "_Need you…please, Draco…need you. Fuck me…"_

"Slytherin wins." Draco hurriedly obliged her.

xoxoMoxox

"You cheated."

"You were playing with _me_, sweetheart. It would have disappointed you if I _hadn't_ cheated." He cupped her face in his hand and turned her head to kiss a gentle line from her temple to her chin. She sighed happily and snuggled against him in their spooned position.

"I suppose I must allow that to be true. I didn't expect anything less from the beginning."

Draco buried his face in the soft, springy hair at the nape of her neck. He was on his almost fully healed left side, his left arm tucked under his head. His right arm was around Hermione, pulling her snugly into his body. _She looks incredible naked under a sheet._ The white cotton was pulled up just over her breasts, with her right arm lying atop it and her left hidden under her pillow. The sheet gracefully outlined her lush curves, and he knew he'd do whatever it took to wake up to that sight every morning of his life.

"Your ankle might be fully healed by tomorrow evening. We could be leaving here as early as Saturday morning." She stroked his fingers, lying against the sheet covering her stomach, with her own.

He grumbled and kissed her beneath her ear, causing a shiver to run through her. "I am actually not looking forward to leaving, if you can believe it."

She gnawed her lower lip with her teeth, surprised to hear him voice her thoughts. "I can. I feel the same way. It's been nice being sort of tucked away."

He nodded, and dragged his lips from beneath her ear to her smooth shoulder. He placed several small kisses along the silky curve. "I know. Things will be different when we get home."

She sighed and closed her eyes. It was here, already; the conversation she knew was coming. She was fully aware that there would be nothing beyond the sex, no matter where they were. However, she also felt a trickle of worry that he was even now becoming bored with her, and that their leaving the Low Country would be the end of their…arrangement. She opened her eyes and turned over so that their fronts were pressed together and she could look into his eyes. She needed to see the truth there. She felt it might help prevent her from doing something idiotic, like begging him to love her. Unable to resist, she stroked a fingertip over the plush fullness of his lower lip. "I know," she whispered.

He looked into her big brown eyes and pursed his lips in a kiss against her finger. Startled, she snatched her hand away. He gathered his courage. He had to test the water. It was now or never.

"After all, Granger…" he lifted his chin and preened a bit in that familiar way, "I'm a high-class type of guy. I'll insist on being taken out to dinner or to a fly-in movie every once in a while before I shag you silly."

She blinked up at him in confusion. "Dinner?"

"At a restaurant. And a movie. Well, at least for the first few months or so. After that, expectations are generally lower and I'll be glad to let you cook for me. Then we can stay in and watch Quidditch on the wizard screen. I hope you're a good cook Granger, but judging by your performance in potions I'm not counting on it. I suppose we can order del-"

He was cut off when she pressed her lips to his, her hand grabbing the side of his face. She was so ecstatically happy that her mind couldn't sort through the colorful swirl of her thoughts, which was fine by her. She let her brain shut down as the tip of her tongue slipped out to trace his lips.

"Mmrmph!" Surprised, it took him a moment to respond to her kiss. At the touch of her tongue, he shook it off and joined in enthusiastically until she pulled away. "Thank you for that, Granger. Mind if I ask what prompted such affection?"

She searched his face. "Draco…Draco, are you sure? You want to see me when we get home?"

"Are you mental, Granger? I've waited almost two years to get you in my bed. Probably longer than that, own the truth. If you think I'm calling off after less than a week of enjoying the spoils, you have another think coming. What did you reckon, that two people who burn up the sheets together like we do could just shake hands at the door and say, 'see you later?'"

She shook her head. "No…no, of course not." On one hand, she was relieved. He wasn't tired of her yet, and there was no foreseeable execution date for their arrangement. However, she was disappointed, too. For a moment she'd allowed herself to be silly, to believe that he was talking about taking her out on dates. She'd pictured him showing up at her door, bringing her flowers, then strolling along the Thames with her, hand-in-hand. But of course, he was only discussing the necessary niceties to maintain their sexual relationship at a respectable level. She brushed off the crushed pieces of her extremely brief fantasy and nuzzled her face against his throat so that he wouldn't catch her gaze. And when, several minutes later, he gently rolled her to her back to pleasure her with his mouth, she let him.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own any part or parcel of the Harry Potter franchise (thought I exploit them shamelessly). The characters and all content true to the original stories, including but in no way limited to direct bits of dialogue, are the sole property of Joanne K. Rowling and/or Warner Brothers Studios. The original plot of this story _does _belong to me. However, I have received no financial gain from the writing of this story, but do it solely for my own amusement and (I hope) yours.

Author's Note: I apologize for making you wait two weeks for this chapter. It will be the next-to-last, and I plan to have the last up soon. As some of you who are also fans of "Yours in Green Silk" already know, I had a little visit to the hospital last week. Not a big deal, but time-consuming. However, I continued to postpone the posting of this chapter. You see, the last thing I want is for my readers to feel that there is too much gratuitous smut and not enough plot. I will warn you, this chapter is extremely smut-heavy. Remember my caution before chapter 1? This is where it really comes into play. It will be the last of the smut for this story, and it is my hope that you will understand why it works _for_ the plot and not against it. We have Draco, who has always had women wanting him for his body and sexual prowess, but has never had one in love with him. Is it not reasonable, especially given that he is a man, that he would use these to convince the one he loves to love him? Then there is Hermione, who needs to discover that a lasting relationship requires more than love, and that Draco can give her the passion it needs to thrive. Oh, how I wish for you to receive this well. One last note, there are analingous (rimming and beyond) and anal sex in this chapter. I know that some of you who have no problem with other types of smut will find this objectionable. Thus, I've placed markers at the beginning and end of that scene so that you may simply skip it, if you prefer. There is a touch of S&M, including spanking, but as it will be obvious when it approaches, I've not marked it. I send an extra-big THANK YOU to all of my reviewers this week, since I am not addressing you directly. – SCP

xoxoMoxox

"Draco, you have to calm down. You're scaring that woman across the aisle." Hermione peeled his fingers off of the seat arm and squeezed his hand reassuringly with her own. "Honestly," she leaned in so that she could whisper very quietly, "you're gorgeous on a broom. So what's the problem?"

Draco pried open his eyes, previously squinched tightly shut, and glanced to the right. Sure enough, a chubby, middle-aged woman was staring at him as if he might break open the door of the plane and jump out screaming at any moment. With great effort, he smoothed his face and managed to smile shakily at her. She smiled back and turned her attention to her knitting. He shifted toward Hermione so he could look at her. She was sitting in the window seat, but at his insistence she had shut the little sliding panel to block the view.

"This," he hissed, "is _not_ a broom. This is a giant, metal contraption with _no_ magic that at any moment might decide to hurl us to the ground."

She smiled in sympathy and reached up to stroke his cheek. It was Saturday morning. Deciding to be extremely cautious in order to avoid a repeat of recent events, Harry had arranged for them to fly from Charleston to Miami. Once in Miami they would find a back alley from which to apparate to the Leaky Caldron. Then, they'd floo to her flat. They'd been in the air about half an hour, and Draco had stunned her by turning out to have horrible flying anxiety. "Darling, that doesn't happen."

"Never?"

"Well…" she didn't want to lie to him. "Nearly never. My goodness, were you this bad with Blaise on the way to Germany?"

He laughed without humor. "Worse, I think. He's not exactly the hand-holding type."

She giggled softly. "What we have to do is get your mind off of it. Lay back and close your eyes and we'll talk about something else." She helped him recline his seat and retract the arm rest between them, then she laid her own seat back and snuggled up to him beneath the blanket the stewardess had brought. Being able to push a button and give orders was the one part of flying in a plane that Draco had so far seemed to enjoy. "Now, close your eyes."

He closed his eyes and pressed his face against her hair. "Okay, they're closed. I can still tell we're on an airplane. Talk about something else, fast."

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "Yes sir!"

"That's right, princess. It's time you learned who the boss is here."

"Oh really?" She trailed a fingertip slowly up his thigh beneath the blanket. "You think you're the boss of me?"

"Oh baby, I know so. As long as I've got what you can't live without, you are entirely under my control." He pushed his crotch at her suggestively. His heart thudded, knowing that he really _was_ betting everything on her attachment to at least that part of their…relationship.

"Hmm…and I suppose you think that's all one-sided."

"Of course! I have magnificent willpower. I'm a Malfoy. There's nothing in the world I can't take or leave."

Hermione slid her fingers to the inside of the thigh she'd been stroking and began drawing circles on the fabric of his trousers a breath away from his crotch. "Truly? So I have nothing that you find…_irresistible_?"

Draco's breathing had gone slightly shallow. "Well…erm, that is to say…"

She pressed her lips to his ear and whispered. "Not even my tight, wet little pussy?" she whispered.

Draco forgot all about the airplane as his eyes crossed behind his lids. He tried to respond, but his tongue felt like it weight a hundred kilos.

"I suppose you can do without it, hmm?" Hermione felt a thrill zip through her. She'd never done anything so daring; she'd never even tried dirty talk in bed, figuring she'd be rubbish at it. But knowing that it was Draco made her feel bold and sexy. "And my hot little mouth, the one that loves to suck your cock? You don't need that either, I guess."

Draco felt her delicate, slender fingers brush over the bulge in his pants. He gritted his teeth to avoid making a sound that would give them away.

"And my tiny, puckered pink ars—" Draco growled and covered her mouth with his hand, mentally cursing the fact that he couldn't silencio her with the muggles surrounding them.

"You've made your point, Hermione," he hissed. With his free hand, he pulled hers away from his crotch. "Now, let _me_ make a point." His voice was barely audible. "We are going to land in approximately twenty-five minutes. I am currently hard enough to hammer nails. You had better hope that the dragon goes to sleep before it is time for us to disembark, or it's going to be very embarrassing for both of us. Either way, you have been a very naughty girl and you must be punished. When we get to your flat I am going to strip you naked, bend you over my knees and spank you until you can't sit down. Then I am going to prove to you just how _right_ you are, on all _three_ points."

Hermione's eyes were closed, and she mewled softly with desire. _Stupid, stupid Hermione! You started this; did you not truly think he would finish it?_ Nobody ever got the upper hand on Draco Malfoy, she conceded.

He uncovered her mouth and tilted her chin with his fingertips to kiss her softly. "I hope you learned something today, Granger."

She giggled breathlessly. "You mean, besides the fact that you call your penis 'the dragon'?"

"Yes, besides that, cheeky." He settled his hot palm flat against her thigh. "Clearly, I possess something that _you_ find irresistible." His tone was light, belying how important this admission was to him.

"Hmm…it must be your debonair charm."

"Well naturally Granger, but I was thinking of something additional." He smirked.

"Really? How odd…nothing comes to mind." Once again in control of herself, she couldn't help but prolong the teasing a bit more.

"No?" He lifted the hand on her thigh and slid his fingers along the silky skin and under the leg of her shorts, mimicking her own previous actions. His thumb caressed the sensitive crease where her leg met her body. "Nothing whatsoever?"

"Um…" She swallowed deeply. "No?" she asked uncertainly.

"So what you're saying, Granger, is…" he leaned as close as possible, his whisper silken, "it does nothing for you when I tell you what a good little slut you are?"

She jerked once, and then trembled beneath his hands. "R-right."

"Oh, I see." He removed his hand from her thigh and placed it chastely on her knee. "Well, I'm glad you told me, Granger. I'll be sure to stop that, then."

"Oh no…you don't have to stop. I mean, if _you_ like it…"

"No no, I am all about _your_ pleasure, Granger. Never again will I utter anything that might offend you, even in the heat of passion." Draco laid his head against his seat and closed his eyes as if to take a nap.

Minutes passed. The pilot made an announcement asking the crew to prepare for landing. Draco waited tensely. It was another full minute before he felt her face against his neck, her quiet whimper in his ear.

"_Don't_."

"Don't what, Granger?"

"Don't stop saying those things. When we're…we're…don't stop."

Draco's heart soared in triumph. "You need them?

"Yes. From _you_. I need _you_ to say them. Please." Fearfully, Hermione waited. Had she said too much?

Draco stroked the capacious cloud of hair she'd left down around her shoulders. "Sweet girl." His mouth was at her ear again, just as the wheels touched down. "My lovely little tart. Just mine."

As his mouth closed over hers and she shivered with desire, she tried not to read too much into his words.

xoxoMoxox

It felt strange to Hermione to be home. She'd been back at her flat for half an hour, had confirmed that Harry had reached Kingsley and she still had a job, and had already unpacked everything she'd brought back with her. She missed Draco already, and she pouted around the parlour grumpily. They had planned for him to come with her, but when they'd arrived at the Leaky Caldron Harry, Ron and Blaise had been waiting. They needed Draco to go to auror headquarters right away and make a report, and then there was going to be an emergency meeting. As he'd walked her to the floo, he'd quietly promised to come to her afterward, though he didn't know what time it would be. Now it was three o'clock in the afternoon, and she still hadn't heard from him.

The sound of an arrival rattled behind her, and she turned excitedly. Her face fell when Ginny stepped from the flames, chic in a black pencil skirt, matching bateau top and black-and-white saddle patterned peeptoe pumps. "Oh, it's you."

"Well thanks!" Ginny rolled her eyes and approached to hug Hermione. "It's nice to see you, too."

"I'm sorry, Gin. I was just…expecting someone else." She pulled away and invited her friend to sit with a gesture. "When you weren't waiting for me, I figured I wouldn't see you today."

Ginny dropped to the sofa and crossed her legs. "I'm sorry about that. I had to stop by the office, and before that mum and dad went to a convention and I had to wait until they got back so they could stay with the kids…and Luna." The last was added in a long-suffering tone.

Hermione smiled. "Still no better, even with Ron home?"

Ginny laughed. "Better? It's worse! He barely made it out of the Burrow today. Now that she's due in less than a week, _both_ of them are as nervous as Draco Malfoy in a den full of Gryffindors." With that sly segue, she asked, "how is he, by the way?"

Hermione kept her face carefully blank as she wandlessly motioned the whistling kettle and her tea service from the kitchen. Once she'd poured for them both and added milk to her own cup and milk and one lump of sugar to Ginny's, she answered. "Good, I think. The deeper scratches are still scabbing over, and he's going to have some scars. But he has incredible stamina."

Ginny waggled her brows. "Oh _does_ he now?"

Hermione forced a laugh. "Ginny. Don't even."

"Well? Did you tell him?"

"No…I couldn't."

"Hermione!"

"Gin, please don't. I know that it makes absolutely no sense after what I said to you before I left, but I can't tell him. That's just the way it is."

They sipped their tea.

"So you're saying nothing at all happened, with the two of you shut up alone in that secluded, romantic Southern plantation house for five whole days?"

Hermione hedged. "Why do you sound disappointed? I thought you'd be happy. After all, it would be much easier for all of us if I met some nice non-Slytherin, someone we share no history with," she said forlornly.

"Yes…" Ginny sipped her tea thoughtfully. "That would be easier."

Hermione set her cup down on the table. "What are you thinking?"

Ginny followed suit and sighed. "I was just thinking about Harry and I and Ron and Luna."

"Yes?"

"Well…I was thinking about what makes our relationships work. I know for Harry and I…well…" she looked uncertainly at Hermione.

"Be vague on the details, and I'll be fine."

Ginny smiled. "'Mione, even when we fight, we fight with such _passion_. You know how we had that little chat the night before my wedding? When you assured me that you never felt anything romantic for Harry?"

Hermione nodded. "You know that's the truth, Gin."

"I know. But I couldn't help but wonder _why_. I mean, those broad shoulders, and those deep green eyes, and those lips…" she shivered.

"I said vague, Gin."

"Sorry." Ginny smiled ruefully. "Anyway, I realized that, as close as you were for so long, there was zero chance for any passion to develop. There was nothing to discover about each other, no mystery."

Hermione nodded emphatically. "Exactly! It's hard to get hot and bothered over someone when they already have no qualms about blowing off (AN: farting) in front of you by the time they even realize that you're female."

Gin smiled, a little sadly this time. "That was the problem with you and my brother, wasn't it?"

"I thought the strength of our friendship and our physical attraction would be enough. But it just wasn't…for either of us. You know, never once did we feel desperate enough for each other to have sex outside of a bed."

Ginny grimaced. "Please!"

"Sorry."

"Well, that's not true of Harry and I and I can tell you for certain that the same goes for Ron and Luna. They were trying to come up with baby names the other day, and so George suggested naming him or her after where they conceived. Luna very calmly announced at the dinner table that they'd have to name the baby '&Blotts Weasley.' I've never seen Ron so red, or George laugh so hard."

Hermione smiled. "Poor Ron."

"Yeah. Anyway, that's indicative of what I'm talking about. Neither I nor Luna was as close to the three of you in our younger years as we were to our own friends. Harry and I learn new things about each other every day, and I discover something else that I love about him just when I think we've grown stodgy. I believe…I believe it's the same for him," she blushed, "and I'm quite sure that Ron and Luna would say likewise. That type of passion, the kind born, at least initially, by surprise…everyone deserves that."

Hermione picked up her cup and drained it. "Ginny, what is your point?"

Ginny rubbed her palms on her knees nervously. "Well…Hermione, I think you should go for it with Malfoy. Tell him how you feel. Since seventh year, he has been a constant surprise for you. I think…I think maybe he's your grand passion. And not just temporarily; once you left I tried to lay aside my personal dislike of Mal—Draco – and think about it. I realized that you really are perfectly suited. 'Mione, he could be the great love of your life. I want to see you happy. We all do. Don't give up on happiness because you're scared."

"You…_all_…do?" Hermione raised her brow.

"Oh, I haven't told anyone! But, we're all your friends. Friends want to see each other happy. You know, in general."

Hermione sighed with relief. "Oh Gin, I—"

"Are you ready for me Granger, you naughty girl? Last one naked is a rotten e-" Draco's voice could be heard long before he stepped from the grate, and he stopped short and sputtered when he spotted Ginny on the couch.

"Well," Ginny smiled with satisfaction after a pregnant pause, "that's my cue, darling." She stood and leaned down to buss Hermione's cheek before moving to the floo. She turned and raised her eyebrow at Hermione. "Nothing happened, huh?" She grinned when her friend blushed. Grabbing a handful of floo powder, she said, "You two kids have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do…if that's possible." With a wink, she was gone.

Hermione and Draco stared at each other in silence for a beat. Then he smirked.

"She's cheeky. I like her."

Hermione scowled. "Well she loves Harry. You can't have her."

Draco crossed the room and pulled her to her feet. "Granger, are you jealous?"

"…no."

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her against him and kissed her soundly. "No need to be, Granger. I'm not interested in having anyone else…at the moment." He added the last bit when he realized that a hint at exclusivity might scare her into changing her mind about their arrangement, rather than moving forward.

Hermione pulled out of his arms, conflicted by his addendum. "Sit down and rest. I'm going to make you a pot of coffee and then I want to hear about the meeting. Are you hungry?" She gathered up the tea things to put them away.

"No, I ate at the Caldron afterward with Potter, Longbottom and Weasel." Instead of sitting, he followed her into the tiny kitchenette. "I think Longbottom has finally cracked. He said the barmiest thing to me as I was leaving."

"Oh?" Hermione started the coffee pot and turned, propping her bottom against the edge of the counter. "What was it?"

"He said, 'I'm glad to see you back among the living. But just remember, I took down Voldemort. I guess I could take down you if you give me reason to.' Then he just walked off. Weird, huh?"

Hermione turned and reached up to get down coffee mugs so that Draco wouldn't see her hands shake. She didn't see him studying her carefully. "Oh…yeah." She tried to laugh, but it sounded a little forced. "That is weird."

He took the cup she handed him and held it out when she brought the pot near. As she filled her own she asked if he would like milk or sugar.

"No thanks." He settled at the little table in the breakfast nook next to the kitchen and she joined him once she'd liberally sweetened her coffee.

"Now, how did it go?"

He shrugged and took a sip. "About as well as it could have. While we were holed up they caught four more of those fuckers, including the one that left his calling card on my shoulder."

"Good!" Hermione gripped her mug, surprised at how vicious she felt on Draco's behalf.

"They think there are only six or seven left floating around, and we're unsure whether they'll even continue to mobilize. The divinatory consultants haven't even come up with a new intended victim, and all the ones we've hidden are currently as safe as can be. Oh, and I got my wand back. Potter found it on the beach and saved it for me." He pulled it out of his back pocket and held it up before setting it on the table.

"So we're relaxed?"

He smiled. "We're relaxed." He shoved his mug away and dragged his chair a few feet away from the table. "In fact, as long as I am in this comfortable position, Granger…"

"Yes?"

He patted his lap invitingly. She stood and walked to him, smiling. As she started to sit in his lap, he caught her by the hips. "Uh-uh. Strip, Granger. You have punishment coming."

She stared at him in disbelief. "You cannot be serious!"

He arched a brow at her. "Try me. Take your licks or tell me goodnight, Granger."

_Rat bastard_. She would love nothing better than to tell him goodnight and wipe that smug smirk off his face. But heat was already pooling between her thighs, her nipples hardening, and she knew if she sent him away it would be another night of bringing herself to orgasm on nothing but fantasies. And then, he'd make her bend over to get him back, anyway. Slowly, she began to undress.

"That's a good girl." He pushed back so the chair rested only on its hind legs and crossed his arms behind his head. "Shimmy a little, Granger. Haven't you ever given a striptease before?"

She paused in the act of pulling her shorts down her legs. "Actually, _Malfoy_, it may surprise you to know that I have _not_ ever performed in such a manner before." She kicked her shorts across the room.

"Malfoy, is it? Someone's getting vexed." He grinned. "Do the shirt next."

Glaring, she began at the top and unfastened the line of buttons holding together the two sides of her blouse. She slipped it from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She reached for the back clasp on her bra.

"Stop, wait a minute. Turn for me."

Sighing with irritation, she plunked her hands on her hips. She felt a hot little charge every time she followed his commands, even as they irked her. She turned in a slow circle, swaying her hips a bit.

When her back was to him, Draco rubbed his chest in the vicinity of his heart, feeling like he'd been punched there. Each second away from her today had been excruciating, and yet she was actually _more_ beautiful than the mental images he'd conjured while Potter had droned on and on. She had changed when she got home. The thin back strap of her black g-string rode the divide of her high, plump little cheeks. It stretched between a band of black lace that encircled her hips and a narrow black lace triangle in the front that covered her sparse golden brown curls. She wore a matching bra, the straps and back the same satin as the string of her knickers and the cups made of identical see-through black lace. She finished her circle and stood before him.

"I have a question for you, Granger."

"Yes?"

"You told me you've made yourself come."

She flushed. "Y-Yes…"

"How recently?"

She bit her lip. "The day…the day before you went missing."

"I have another question."

She waited.

"What were you thinking about that last time, when you were touching yourself?"

She stood speechless, embarrassed to tell him.

"Granger?" His eyes raked down her body. "Tell me."

"That night…the night we worked late and you saw my knickers. I…I was imagining that you stayed."

"Do you remember any details from that fantasy?" He shifted to adjust his cock in his pants.

She hesitated. Then, "Yes, all of them."

"Slide your hand down your knickers and touch yourself, Granger. Tell me everything you imagined while you make yourself come." He waited, fully expecting her to refuse.

She shivered with excitement she knew she'd never have to hide from him, her eyes sliding closed. Her hand rose to lay flat against her stomach, and then it was slipping down, beneath the lace waistband of her panties. "You were staring at me…_there._"

"Yes? Move your fingers, Granger."

She lightly stroked the top of her mound, just as he had only a couple of days ago. "But I didn't pull down my skirt. I looked back at you, and you could tell what I wanted."

"Go on."

"You touched me, you slid your hands up my legs until they were on my thighs, under my skirt." She petted a little lower and sighed.

"How did it feel to have me touching you?"

"So good…your hands were so hot. Then you unfastened my garters."

"Keep going. Do something else with your hand, Granger."

She slipped her hand lower and stroked a sensitive spot on one of her outer lips. She moaned. "You…you pulled down my stockings. Then my knickers." She slid her index finger between her lips, slipping it back and forth just as he had to gather moisture.

"Then what happened?"

"Then…" she whimpered. "Then…um…you got on your knees and kissed the insides of my thighs."

"Just your thighs?"

Her finger found her clit and started to rub just the way she liked. Her hips thrust forward jerkily. She bit her lip and didn't answer, as her breathing grew louder and erratic.

"Did I kiss your pussy, Granger? Did I eat your little cunt? Did it feel as good in your imagination as it did when I really _was_ licking your clit this morning? Did you scream for me when you came, the way you do now?" He gripped himself through the front of his trousers and squeezed once before letting go. He wasn't going to last. If he watched her come like this it was going to be over.

She moaned loudly, her head tilting backward. She was so close.

"Stop, Hermione. I said _STOP!"_

With great effort and surprise, she stopped and looked at him.

"Take your hand out." Her shoulders shook gently as she silently sobbed her disappointment, without tears, but she obeyed. "Are you ready for your licks, now?"

She pressed her lips together, her brain still fuzzy. Finally, when she was no longer near orgasm, she nodded.

"Take off the bra." His words were slurred with desire.

She unfastened her bra and let it slid off of her arms and to the floor. She stood silently, crossing her arms awkwardly over her tummy and wondering if she was supposed to continue.

Draco lifted a hand and crooked two fingers at her. "Come here."

She walked to him, and he grasped her hips to move her so that she faced his side. "Pull your knickers down. Just to your knees."

Hands shaking with nerves, she pushed her panties off of her hips and down her thighs, letting them catch on her kneecaps and stay there.

"Bend over my lap, Granger."

Still incredibly aroused, she slowly bent at the waist until her torso touched his thighs. She squeaked when his hands suddenly lifted her hips. He settled her with her top half hanging down from the other side of the chair, her bottom full in the air. She felt his erection pressing against her hip.

"Do you think it's a wise idea to tease me, Granger?" He stroked his palm over the curve of her bare bottom.

"N-no."

"Will you continue to touch what is _mine_ when I am not there to see you? Will you ever again make yourself come without _my_ attendance and participation?"

She sighed shakily, her heart dancing happily that such _completion _for her soul existed. "No."

"That's right. I think about ten smacks ought to help you remember." He pulled his hand back and brought it down on her bottom with a loud _crack_. She cried out, and a red handprint appeared against her creamy flesh.

"How many are left, Granger?"

She blinked the tears away from her eyes. "N-nine."

_Thwack!_

"How many are left now?"

Hermione swallowed. Her bottom burned, but she was surprised to realize how _good_ it felt. She'd thought he'd just meant to humiliate her, but…he'd known, hadn't he? He always knew her before she even knew herself. "Eight."

_Smack._

She squirmed a bit as she felt herself creaming again in response to the touch of his big, hot palm on her bottom and the delicious leftover sting. "Eight."

Pause. "Eight, Granger?"

"Eight."

_Crack_.

She moaned. "Eight."

Draco growled. For the next five minutes he spanked her, stopping only when his arm grew tired and her entire bottom was bright red.

"No!" she cried brokenly when he tried to lift her from his lap.

"On the floor, Hermione. Take your knickers off and get on your hands and knees."

She scrambled to obey and felt a gush of hot liquid trickle between her thighs all over again. She waited breathlessly on all fours as he undressed.

Draco moved behind her and dropped to his knees. Grasping her thighs, he tugged her legs apart until she could accommodate him. He dipped a finger into her to make sure she was ready for him and she moaned again and ground back against him.

"Greedy, are we? Patience, angel." Removing his finger, he lined up and pushed the head of his cock into her. There, he stopped. "_Fuck _you're so damn _wet_." Whimpering, she tried to thrust backward, but he held her fast with his hands. "Rem-Remember, Granger," he said, panting at the feel of her tautness around even that much of him, "I prom- I promised to prove you right." He pushed in another fractional bit.

Her face dropped to the carpet and she let out a wail of frustration. Dammit, she needed _all_ of him, _now_! She felt another scant few centimeters slide against her walls.

"Th- This _is_ irresistible." Another centimeter. "Ha- Have you learned your les- lesson yet?" _Gods_ she was tight; and so, so hot. If she didn't give in soon he was going to blow his load.

"I'm sorry! Draco I'm sorry, I'll never tease you again. Please…please."

With a roar he plunged fully into her. He gripped her hips tightly in his hands and rocked her in time to his thrusts. _In, pull her…out, push her…in, pull her…_

For several minutes there was only the sound of slapping skin and their moans and sighs. He wasn't even aware of how quiet it was until he heard her voice.

"Please…please talk to me. I…I can't…"

He bent to press his lips to her spine. "Hermione, you feel…you feel so good. Your tight little cunt…is s- so sweet." He slid his hand between her legs and found her clit. He rubbed it between his thumb and index finger. "Such a good…good slut for me…"

She came harder than she ever had, with a surge that jerked her whole body. She would have collapsed without Draco's strong arm underneath her. He fucked her frantically for another minute, and as she floated blissfully she heard his groan of surrender just before he flooded her. They both collapsed to the floor.

They lay together there, in a comfortable silence, until both had caught their breaths and Draco felt himself hardening again within her. Swiftly but gently he pulled out, ignoring her small sound of protest. "Up on your knees, princess." He stood.

Hermione dragged herself languidly to a kneeling position. Before she had a chance to wonder what he was about, his fingers were tangled in her hair and the head of his cock pressed against her lips. "Open."

Too surprised to put up a fight, she opened. He slid into her mouth eagerly, and she jumped a little and coughed around him when she felt him hit the back of her throat. "Relax, angel. Breathe through your nose." He pressed again, more gently this time, and she followed his directions as she felt him slide all the way down.

Gripping her by the hair, he fucked her mouth. He developed a quick, quick, slow thrusting pattern that was quickly driving him toward the edge. He was buried so deeply she had no room to work her tongue on him, so she simply sucked as hard as she could and reached out to fondle his sac. Rising onto the balls of his feet, he whimpered. "J- Just a few…a few more…sec- seconds…Merlin, it…it feels too…good…" After two more thrusts she felt him begin to withdraw. She grabbed the backs of his thighs with her hands and slammed her lips forward again, effectively preventing him from withdrawing of his own volition.

"_No, _G…Hermione…s-sweetheart…I'm…I'm going to…" he tipped his head back with a grunt and then moaned loudly as she tasted his salty cum run down the back of her throat. Only when she had squeezed the last drop from him did she release him and let him fall to his knees. He dropped his head against her shoulder.

"Princess, you're going to kill me."

She giggled as she wrapped her arms around his waist and stroked her palms over his sweaty back. "Is it a bad way to die?"

His lips found her neck and he nibbled at her, causing her to catch her breath. "The best. Let me get my strength back and I'll carry you to bed."

xoxoMoxox

"Do you think she'll tell Potter?" They'd been cuddling in bed for about twenty minutes, talking softly together, when Draco brought up Ginny.

"No, she won't. She hasn't yet, and if Gin is going to spill the beans she does it quickly. We're safe."

"Well it's only been a couple of hours. I think the window is still open." He smiled and pressed a kiss to her palm.

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "No, it's been almost a week. She hasn't breathed a word."

"Granger, what are you on about?"

Hermione realized that from his perspective, Ginny only knew there was something between them today when he'd flooed in. He probably didn't realize that she would have talked about him with her friend.

"Ginny knew. She knew that I…um, that I wanted you. She…she saw how upset I was when you went missing and she guessed."

He pulled back a bit to look down into her face. "You were upset over me?"

Self-conscious, she pressed her fingertip into the slight dimple in his chin and refused to meet his eyes. "A little."

He lifted her face with his fingertips beneath her chin and gazed into her eyes. "It must have been more than a little, if she asked about it."

She lowered her lashes. "I…I might have been crying."

He kissed the tip of her nose. "My poor Granger. Crying?"

She sighed. "Okay, 'sobbing hysterically' is probably more accurate. We may not have talked in months before this week, Draco, but you used to be one of my dearest friends. Of course I was heartbroken."

He tipped her face higher and kissed her lips. "Heartbroken, hmm? That's a pretty strong emotion, Granger."

"I…I'd feel that way if _any_ of my friends went missing. You, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Luna…any of you." _Please, please don't press me any further. I'll tell you that I love you. I'll beg you to give me a chance to make you happy._

(AN: ANALINGOUS/ANAL SEX BEGINS HERE!)

"I see." He went quiet, keen with disappointment. His hand fell from her face to smooth his palm up and down her back. On the third or fourth downward pass, his fingers kept going until he was stroking the partition between the cheeks of her ass. "Granger," he purred, "it seems to me I have one more _irresistible_ location to worship." If sex was all she wanted from him, if this was his only leverage, he'd please her in as many ways as he possibly could.

She held herself tightly to keep from wiggling like an excited puppy beneath his touch. "Now? Draco, I can only just sit comfortably after that first time on Thursday and my bottom is going to be sore already from earlier."

Sliding over to make room, he turned her gently to her stomach and stroked her hair. "I guess this is a lesson you won't soon forget, then." He leaned down and kissed the top curve of her ear. "You were right Granger, I need it terribly. But if you really don't want to, tell me now." In response, she raised her bottom and pressed it against him.

He pushed the covers off of them and moved fully square behind her. Using his hands, he gently pulled her cheeks apart. Locating her little pink hole, he pressed his lips against it and felt her shiver in response. He kissed it again, softly, then lapped at it with the tip of his tongue. She mewled and tossed her head on the pillow. He pressed his tongue against the tight opening with light pressure and was rewarded when he felt it slowly slide in. After only a centimeter or so, he pulled back.

"Please…don't stop."

He stroked her sides with his hands to reassure her as he pushed his tongue fully into her. When he could go no further, he pulled back until only the tip remained in. He slowly built a rhythm, fucking her tiny hole with his tongue.

She was squirming wildly beneath him, and he had to lay an arm across her back to hold her steady so that she didn't dislodge him. She was making small pleading noises in her throat, and though he'd meant to make this last as long as possible, he could no longer wait. His cock was so hard it was already leaking pre-cum, and he used his hand to spread the natural slickening substance down his shaft as he whispered a lubrication spell for good measure. With a final tender kiss to the entrance he was about to abuse, he pressed the head of his dick against it. "Push out for me, angel." He knew she'd complied when the entire head of his cock suddenly disappeared.

She gasped and whimpered. "It still hurts…Draco it hurts."

Instantly he was contrite. He nuzzled her ear. "Shh, I'll take it out, princess. Don't cry."

"No!" He froze. "No…don't. Just…go slowly, please."

He kissed the shell of her ear again. "I promise. I'll go as slow as you want, sweetheart." With great effort, he stayed completely still for nearly thirty seconds. As gently as he could, he pushed forward. She must have pushed out again, because he unexpectedly and rapidly slid two centimeters. He froze. She moaned loudly.

"Love?" His lips were near her ear again. "Hermione? Are you all right?" Sweat was prickling on his forehead from his efforts not to plunge recklessly into the chute that was squeezing him with exquisite tightness.

She mumbled something into the pillow.

"What was that?"

She turned her head away from the pillow so he could hear her plainly. Her heart was singing stupidly from his calling her his "love." Clearing her throat primly, she said in her bossiest voice, "I said, _harder_."

(AN: END OF ANAL CONTENT!)

xoxoMoxox

Hermione cringed a little as she rolled, content, onto her back and pulled the covers up. Still gasping for breath, Draco fell on his side and threw an arm over her. "Granger…you are…fucking magnificent."

Despite the pleasant but sharp soreness in her bottom, Hermione smiled like the kitten that got into the cream. "Am I?"

"You know you are. You've rubbed it in my face for the better part of two decades." He brushed his lips against her shoulder.

"I've done no such thing!" She snuggled against him. "You kiss me quite often, you know."

"I know."

"Oh. Why?"

"Why do I know?" asked Draco, deliberately misunderstanding.

"No, silly. Why do you kiss me so often?"

"I like to."

"Oh."

"You could kiss me, if you like." He tried to sound nonchalant, she could tell, but her heart flip-flopped at the hint of boyish hope in his voice. She turned onto her side and softly kissed him on the mouth.

"Better?"

"Getting there. Try another."

She laughed and kissed the tip of his nose, then the slight hollow in his chin, and then finally brought her lips back to his. "There. How was that?"

"Mmm, much better." He pressed her fully against him and gently brushed away the hair that had fallen in her eyes. _I love you_. "What are you thinking, Granger?"

_I love you._ "Oh, nothing really. Just staring off into space, I guess. I'm a bit knackered, thanks to someone we both know." She smiled.

He snorted. "Oh, so it's all my fault?"

"Yes, yes it is." She lifted her chin, pinching her lips together to keep from grinning. "If it weren't for you I would be well-rested. I would also be completely innocent and good and unspoi—Hey!" He leered over her, hands on her breasts.

"You can't be too exhausted, Granger. You're still talking." He smirked.

Removing his hands from her breasts and pulling them down to wrap his arms around her, she looped hers around his neck. "I am tired. I just hate to go to sleep and waste any part of your visit."

"Visit?"

"Well…I…" she trailed off, feeling awkward. "I assumed you would want to go home soon."

Beneath the covers, he had fitted his thigh between hers. The contrast of his springy leg hairs and her smooth skin felt decadent. She ached a little at the thought of how well they fit together when they snuggled this way and how she would miss him tonight.

"Are you politely saying that you'd like me to leave, Granger?" He propped himself up on his elbow, as if preparing to rise. She clasped her hands together behind his neck.

"No, not at all. If you would _like_…that is, you're _welcome_…" Blast it all, there was no good way to ask him to stay without sounding clingy. She was supposed to be satisfied to be his sex partner, after all. She would have to act cool, calm and collected each time he left.

"Say…Granger?"

"Yes?"

"Do I have to teach you your place again?"

It took a moment for his words to make sense. He turned to lie on his back and she cuddled happily against his side. They slept until the sound of the floo woke them two hours later.

xoxoMoxox

"How can you ask this of him? He's only just healed!" Hermione's voice was low and harsh as she padded between the dining table and the kitchenette in her pale pink dressing gown, dumping out cold coffee and placing dirty mugs into the sink. She reeled on Harry, who was looking sheepish in the doorway.

"Hermione, if I could spare him, I swear I would. I told Ginny the same thing. You know that she would never have told me he was here if there was any alternative. Which…is something we should talk about, by the way. Later."

Hermione glared at her best friend as she pushed past him and out of the kitchen. Hearing the shower stop, she stood awkwardly in the parlour with her arms wrapped around herself. There were a few minutes of heated silence before Draco emerged from the bathroom, clean and dressed in the uniform Harry had brought him. Unable to stop herself, Hermione moved to him and slicked back his wet hair with her fingers. "Okay?"

He nodded. "Blaise will take more than his share if I need him to. I'm pretty sure if I can pull off what we've been up to the last couple of hours, I can kick some terrorist arse." He smiled, and it widened to a grin when Harry made a choking noise somewhere in the background. "Guess I better not say anything else, or Potter and Weasel may decide not to back us up." He bent quickly to press a chaste kiss to her lips, and she hugged him briefly before he pulled away. He cupped her face in his hands and looked down at her earnestly. "Granger, I'm going to tell you something. And then we're going to leave. And I don't want you to say anything – _anything_ – until I come back, all right?"

Hermione nodded, feeling apprehension wash through her.

"Promise? Not one word?"

"I promise," she whispered. Surely he wouldn't end this now. Surely, knowing how worried she would be already, he wouldn't leave her crushed. Surely he –

"I love you." She felt the back of his fingers slide along her cheekbone as if he couldn't resist touching her, but everything else ceased to exist. Even the beat of her heart ceased, she was positive. Her eyes closed softly, as she savored the sound of the words over and over in her head, stunned with disbelief. Suddenly, she realized that she could no longer feel his hands against her skin. She opened her eyes to find emptiness, and the crack of disapparation told her, even before she turned, that they had gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own any part or parcel of the Harry Potter franchise (thought I exploit them shamelessly). The characters and all content true to the original stories, including but in no way limited to direct bits of dialogue, are the sole property of Joanne K. Rowling. The original plot of this story _does _belong to me. However, I have received no financial gain from the writing of this story, but do it solely for my own amusement and (I hope) yours.

Author's Note: Okay guys, this is it! I apologize if the end of this story seems abrupt. I was actually planning another twist, but with the popularity of "Yours in Green Silk," I wanted to finish this one off as quickly and as smoothly as possible so that I can give YIGS all of my attention and make the future chapters better than the last two (though my readers seem to like them and for that, I am very grateful!) I hope that you've enjoyed this little story, even if it turned out slightly crack-ish. Love to you all! – SCP

08/09/12: Edited to fix the timeline.

xoxoMoxox

There were not enough things to do to fill the time. Hermione washed every dish she owned by hand. She alphabetized her books. She played her way through a collection of Brahms' waltzes. She attempted to floo call Ginny, only to find 12 Grimmauld Place deserted. She paced. She sang scores from her favorite movies. And finally, finally when she could no longer keep the knowledge from creeping in, she ran to the center of her parlour floor and spun in circles until she was dizzy, laughing at the top of her lungs. He loved her. He _loved_ her! And she loved him, and she would _tell_ him. Abruptly, she stilled and stopped laughing and the worry she had held at bay swamped her. Where was he? What was he doing? Was it a very dangerous assignment? Harry had not been able to tell her much, and she refused to dwell on it, afraid she might slightly lose her mind for the second time in as many weeks. And so instead, she moved to her bedroom and began sorting through all of the mismatched socks in her dresser drawer.

She was debating whether to save a pink sock with navy polka dots and try to locate its mate or to throw it out, when she heard two distinctive _pops _from the parlour. Dropping the ridiculous thing, she raced from her room and down the stairs to find Harry and Ron standing next to her sofa, both looking pale and shaken. She slowed and approached cautiously, her eyes scanning the room desperately for a tall blond figure she had overlooked. "Harry? Ron?"

"Hermione, we only have a moment." Harry wrapped his arms around her stiff form and hugged her tightly. "We have to get back, we're doing everything we can."

Puzzled, she turned her eyes from Harry's face to Ron's. The redheads eyes were huge, shock plain on his face. "'Mione, I'm sorry. I didn't want him to do it. The stupid git…he wouldn't listen!" Harry jerked Ron behind him and pushed his hands down gently on her shoulders to steady her. Only then did she realize she was swaying.

"Hermione, he's fine. So far he's fine and we – the aurors – we're going to go in and get him. He's going to be okay. Believe me?"

Numbly, Hermione nodded. Not that she had actually _processed _the information, but what else could she do? Harry was staring intently into her face, clearly expecting an answer.

"We're going now. Ginny is on her way from the Burrow to stay with you, now that Ron is all right." Harry led her around the sofa by the hand and pushed her down gently so that she sat. "Stay here." He and Ron disapparated.

Hermione tucked her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, eyes fixed on her floo and the wall around it without actually seeing anything. She must have stayed that way for more than fifteen minutes; suddenly, the flame flared green and Ginny stepped out. Taking only a second to get her bearings, she ran toward Hermione and dropped onto the sofa next to her, pulling the older girl into her arms. Hermione gave no sign that she recognized her presence. Ginny took a shuddering breath. "Cry, please. I thought you were bad two weeks ago, but this is so much worse."

Hermione shook her head, her hair brushing the underside of Ginny's chin. "I haven't any right to cry."

"No right? You have every right!"

Hermione sighed. "If I never get to tell him that I love him, it's my own fault for being a stupid coward." She leaned heavily against her friend, arms sliding away from her knees. "He told _me_ you know. He said it just before he left. He loves me."

Ginny smiled gently and stroked her hair. "Of course he loves you. He wouldn't have done what he did today for Ron, or for anyone else. He did it for you, 'Mione."

Hermione pulled away and looked up into Ginny's face with a bewildered expression. "What do you mean, 'what he did'? What did he do?"

"They…they didn't tell you?" Ginny bit her lip, hesitant.

"No…there wasn't time. Ginny, what happened? I tried to floo call you earlier and nobody was home. Harry said you were all at the Burrow."

Ginny opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Her eyes drifted toward the kitchenette behind the wall to her right. "We're going to need tea."

xoxoMoxox

"What do you mean, he _traded_ himself?" Hermione carefully placed her teacup and saucer on the table in front of her, her hands shaking so badly that the china rattled loudly in the quiet room.

"The Protection Initiative Task Force received word from the diviners that the remaining terrorists would be gathered at a safe house in Kent. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to round up the aimless stragglers, a plum of an assignment that Harry thought Malfoy – and everyone else – could handle easily. But it was a trap. They were waiting for the aurors. Seems there's a bit of a leak within the divinatory consultants. Harry and Ron went in first, as always, being head and assistant head aurors. Harry managed to fight his attackers off and get out, but Ron got snatched straightaway. Malfoy and Zabini were supposed to go in next, but Harry caught them outside the building and called for backup. There was some sort of communication with the terrorists; they were trying to use Ron as a hostage to get away. That's when Malfoy offered himself up to them, over Harry's objections, of course. The deal was too good to resist: the son of a powerful former death eater means more than escape. It means money and favor with the dark side. They agreed to the trade and used Malfoy to move. When Harry and Ron stopped in at the Burrow, Harry said that they've traced them to a different house just north of here. That's where they are, getting him out." Ginny finally paused to take a sip of her rapidly-cooling tea. "And they _will_ get him out. They've pulled aurors from every department."

Hermione blinked away the fine sheen of tears that had gathered and sipped slowly from her own cup, needing the comfort of the action more than the tea itself. "Why? Why would he do that? They could have gotten Ron out with the same level of difficulty they'll have retrieving Draco." She found it hard to think through such a level of despair, and her brain felt sluggish and tired.

"They never would have had a chance to get to Ron, 'Mione. All he offered was a chance for escape. As soon as they arrived at the current location he would have served his purpose and they would have killed him. Mal – Draco knew that. He also knew that they would keep _him_ alive hoping to garner additional support for their plans by trying to use him to extort Lucius' cooperation – and, subsequently, that of any remaining and/or reformed death eaters. Draco saved Ron's life because he loves _you_, and while he might still doubt that you return his love, he _knows_ that you love your friends."

Hermione slowly shook her head, once again putting side her cup. "Stupid, stupid man. Doesn't he understand that I can't lose either of them? If he died, Gin…oh gods, I can't even think of it!" A small choking noise escaped her throat, and a few tears slipped down her cheek before she dashed them away and composed herself.

"We know, 'Mione."

"We?" Hermione arched a brow.

Ginny smiled. "Yes, _we_. Hermione, the man might as well have written his love for you with clouds in the sky for everyone to see. The minute he traded himself for Ron, both Ron and Harry knew. I didn't have to say a word. And, from their reactions – not to mention the eternal gratitude of my entire family – I very much doubt you'll have to worry about their interference."

Hermione sighed and sunk back into the sofa cushions. "Well, now he _has_ to come out all right. I can only stand so much of all of you coddling me. I can't promise not to murder anyone if it goes on for too long. Or, at least, not hit them with a nasty stinging jinx."

Ginny laughed lightly and patted Hermione's knee. "Don't worry, we –"

Suddenly the floo flared, and the face of Molly Weasley appeared in the flames. "Ginny?" She spotted Ginny on the couch and her gaze focused in on her. "Ginny, we need you here right away. Luna's just gone into labor."

Ginny turned sorrowful eyes on her friend, but Hermione waved her off. "Go. Luna needs you, and I need some time alone." She nodded and wrapped the older girl in a brief hug before hurrying away.

Hermione cleaned up the tea services, pouring out the leftover liquid from the kettle and rinsing the cold dregs from the bottoms of the cups. She opened the hall closet and removed her favorite flannel blanket, wrapping it around herself and curling up on the sofa where she fell into a fitful sleep.

xoxoMoxox

"No…_no_!" Hermione's head tossed from side to side, her eyes scrunched tightly closed in her sleep. "Leave him 'lone! _NO!_" She was lost in a nightmare as a figure, shadowy thanks to the lack of light in the room now that the sun had gone down, lowered itself to the sofa, settling next to her hip. "Love him…love…" Hermione sighed deeply and seemed to calm, though she continued to whimper quietly.

"Shhh, love. Shhh." Long, cool fingers slid gently over her face, across her forehead, following the curve of her cheek and the line of her jaw.

The images in Hermione's mind slowly began to fade, the sight of Draco being tortured by an unknown, masked death eater shimmering and thinning before falling away completely. Then there was only darkness, and someone…someone was touching her.

"Who are you dreaming of, sweetheart? Who do you love?" The fingers were now in her hair, an entire large hand caressing her scalp tenderly. Hermione floated up through the last, shallow layers of sleep and then her lashes fluttered open. Even in the mostly dark, her eyes found his, shining with emotion as he stared down at her and petted her reverently.

"You," she breathed, feeling the tears building behind her eyes and in her throat. "I love you." She reached up and pulled his fingers from her hair, tangling them with her own.

He smiled gently, a true smile, his teeth very white in the dimness. "That's good….that's really good."

She felt her lips curve back at him. "Because you love me?"

He wrapped his hands around her upper arms and carefully pulled her into a sitting position. He waited while she stretched, working the painful kinks from her spine. "Yes Granger, because I love you." He leaned in and placed a light kiss on her lips, pulling away when he felt her jump.

"Oh! You're…you're really here!" Her voice was laced with surprise, confusing him.

They were now directly in the path of a stream of light coming through the window behind them from a streetlamp outside and she could see his brow furrow. "Of course I'm here, Granger. Did you think you were imagining me? Should I worry that you often have delusions?" He smirked, a sight so familiar that her heart ached – though in a good way, this time.

"I thought that maybe I was still dreaming. Or that…maybe you were a ghost." Suddenly, the events of the day came flooding back into her mind. She scowled and pulled her arm back, punching him in the shoulder.

"Ouch!" He grabbed his shoulder and looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "What was that for?"

"You complete _arse_! How could you serve yourself up on a platter like that? Did you even _think_ of what it would do to _me_? You thoughtless, inconsiderate, swine of a man –"

He cut her off with another kiss, deeper this time but still relatively chaste, laughing against her lips. "Are you quite finished?" He pulled away only a fractional bit before speaking, his breath warm on her lips when he did.

All of the starch seemed to leave her spine, and she melted against him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "How did you get away?"

Sliding fully back onto the sofa, he pulled her across his lap and held her as he related the story. "As soon as they let Ron out, I started playing the part. Unfortunately, the five guys who were left just weren't that bright."

"Unfortunately?" She raised a brow at him.

He grinned. "It would make my triumph much more heroic if they were brilliant, wouldn't it?" She rolled her eyes and bit back an answering smile and he continued. "Anyway, I had them completely convinced that father missed being a death eater, that I wanted to follow in his footsteps. They didn't even bind me, the dumbarse ponces. The first one to turn his back to me got a fist to the head and was relieved of his wand. By the time Potter and company stormed in like it was a bloody third war, there were only two I hadn't taken down and they were so gone with fright they were throwing off hexes even a first year could block."

"So let me get this straight…" Hermione tipped her head so that the tips of their noses touched as her fingers played with the buttons of his shirt. "You basically single-handedly took down six bad guys?"

Draco's grin widened until he thought his face might tear in half, but he shrugged nonchalantly. "It was nice not to play the damned damsel in distress this time around."

This time Hermione initiated the kiss, deeper and more passionate than the other two, stroking the roof of his mouth with the tip of her tongue in a way that made him gasp and told him exactly what she was thinking. They were both panting lightly by the time she broke away, giggling when he tried to follow with his lips. "Dumb or not, Draco, I think that's pretty fucking heroic. And damn hot."

His eyes widened in mock-surprise. "Why, what a potty mouth you have, Granger. Whatever will we do with you?" He leaned in again to nuzzle the sensitive place at her temple and press a kiss there, and Hermione looped her arms around his neck to whisper in his ear.

"I suppose you'll have to take me upstairs and let me give you a hero's welcome."

xoxoMoxox

_Two Months Later_

The Christmas party was in full swing, and 12 Grimmauld Place was packed to capacity with, it seemed, every living person that any member of the Golden Trio had ever met in their entire life. To the shock of many, even Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were in attendance, invited especially by Hermione Granger herself as she and Draco's passionate and enviable relationship was now common knowledge both through word of mouth and countless articles in the _Daily Prophet_. It seemed not an issue went out that didn't contain at least one small snippet along with a picture of the two, strolling down Diagon Alley hand-in-hand or sharing a kiss outside Draco's flat, which they'd actually shared for the last several weeks. Draco had resigned from his auror position, claiming a lack of passion for risking his life and handsome face. Now that he was no longer running from anything, he was happiest back in Muggle Affairs where he was still making a difference, yet he and Granger had the opportunity to lock the door to their shared office during lunch and shag like bunnies.

The memory of what they'd done on Granger's desk just yesterday made Draco smirk as he rounded a corner, searching for his parents. Despite their reformation, he knew that this wasn't their usual type of party and he wanted to ensure that they were comfortable. He brushed by Ron, carrying baby Celeste, as he moved down the hallway. "Hey Weasley, have you seen my parents anywhere?"

Ron stopped and turned, making his best attempt at a smile. Things were still a bit stilted but cordial between the two, but it was a law of the world that once someone saved your life, you had to be friends. "Yeah, they're in the parlour with Luna and some members of the Wizengamot." He made a face. "I'm on nappy duty." He turned again and made his way toward the back bedrooms, presumably to change his redheaded daughter.

Draco chuckled and headed toward the parlour, where he quickly found his mother and father, looking a little stiff but still smiling, grouped in conversation with Luna Weasley, Harry and Ginny Potter, and two members of the Wizengamot: Mr. Griffin and Mrs. Merchant. They seemed so engrossed in the topic at hand that Draco simply stood silently, sipping from his cup of spiked punch. Soon, he felt a presence at his elbow.

"Who would have ever thought, huh?" Hermione slipped a slender arm around her boyfriend's waist, also surveying the scene before them. She couldn't help but marvel again at what a major event like war, and the subsequent yearning for peace after the end, could accomplish. "Let's just hope it's more than spontaneous yule fellowship, yeah?"

Draco, distracted, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and bent to kiss the top of her head. "Yeah…say, Granger, members of the Wizengamot can bury people and marry them and stuff like that, right?"

She shrugged, knowing he would feel it in the rise and fall of his arm. "I suppose. At least, I know Mrs. Merchant can perform wedding ceremonies. She's the one who married Harry and Ginny. Why?"

He smiled down at her, knowing she couldn't see him without raising her head. "I just had a thought. Speaking of spontaneous yule fellowship…"

xoxoMoxox

Hermione sat straight up in bed, gasping. She turned, grabbing her wand off the table next to the bed. "Lumos!"

The sleeping body next to her shifted, kicking at the blankets tangled around his legs and grumbling. "Hermione, go back to sleep."

She didn't answer him; her eyes were fixed on the slender silver circle around the third finger of her left hand. She closed her eyes and smiled. "Nox." She laid aside her wand and settled back, curling into _her_ place at her husband's side. "My husband," she whispered happily.

She felt, rather than heard, him chuckle next to her. "Afraid so, princess. Hoping it was a nightmare?" His palm stroked up and down her upper arm, creating a warm path over her skin.

"Worried it was a dream." She pressed her lips to his pectoral muscle, just above his nipple. "I might actually forget your name, I like calling you my husband so much."

He smirked in the darkness, and she could hear it in his voice. "I'm glad, my wife. Now, let your husband sleep at least two more hours and he'll take you into town in the morning to pick out a wedding ring that wasn't transfigured from the lid of a marmalade jar."

Hermione trailed her fingers over his stomach to his hip in that way that never failed to make him gasp and harden. "What if I want to keep _this _ring? After all, this is the ring that you placed on my finger in front of our friends and family at our spontaneous yule fellowship Christmas Eve wedding." She nuzzled the underside of his chin with her lips.

"Hermione…" he trapped her fingers against the flat planes of his stomach with his hand to keep them from wandering. "You know better than anyone how transfiguration works. What if you wake up one morning with no wedding ring, a jar lid stabbing you in the arse and sheets smeared with moldy old marmalade?" He couldn't resist sliding his free hand to lightly cup one of her breasts beneath the covers.

She giggled and arched to push further into his caressing palm. "I don't think that will happen. I can't imagine that the life of a marmalade lid is so diverting that its will to return to its former existence will overwhelm the spell."

Draco had worked the blankets down, and he turned on his side for better access. "And if it does? I don't want a bawling woman on my hands, crying over her lost wedding band." He bent to nibble along her faint line of cleavage.

Hermione shivered. "I suppose that's something to discuss when it becomes relevant. We'll have to agree to disagree for the moment. Unless you _really_ want to go back to sleep…" As she trailed off she reached down, wrapping one hand around his already aching erection.

Draco gasped again and growled, rolling to press her back into the mattress. "Let me tell you something, _wife_…"

She wrapped her fee arm around his neck and tilted her head back to give his lips better access to her own. But he was, instead, looking down at her and she opened her eyes to return his gaze. "Yes?"

He glowered for a moment, then the expression melted away and he smiled; one of the honest, real smiles he saved for a select few. "I love you."

She grinned back, but pulled her hand from his neck to press against his cheek and stop him when he descended for a kiss. "Hey…"

His face was puzzled. "Yes?"

"I love you too."

That night was only one among thousands the two spent proving their words to each other.

*Finite Incantatem*


End file.
